Friends
by mmgage
Summary: This is the sequel to the story "Neighbors." Complications ensue as House and Sarah try to sort out their relationship. Are they truly just "friends," or are they something more? The final chapter is now up and reviews will be appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I do not own House. There - got that out of the way. This is the first chapter of the sequel to my story "Neighbors" and I'm going to say right now that if you haven't read "Neighbors" you should close this story and go do that first. Done? Good, now I hope you will enjoy the continuation of House's and Sarah's relationship struggles. Now, for a warning. "Neighbors" pretty much showed up fully formed in my head one day and then it wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it down. I was able to post at least one chapter every day. This one is proving more work so I don't expect I'll be able to update as rapidly as last time. I appreciate your patience, and your reviews (I continue to be Pathetic Review Junkie). A HUGE thanks to Brighid45 for serving as my beta this time. Here we go and I hope you'll enjoy!**

When Sarah left her office on Monday, she felt like a week should've passed instead of just one day. First, her desk had been buried in work that she needed to catch up on after her absence the previous week. Second, the secretary that worked in the office with her had been in a foul mood. She was angry about Sarah's disappearance and resentful that the department chair had allowed her to return, apparently with no consequences. Sarah could either tell her what had happened, or put up with her bad attitude. For the time being, Sarah had chosen to tolerate the attitude. She'd told enough people she barely knew about her stalker.

Sarah tried not to think too much about the events from the first part of the previous week. Coming face to face with Todd had been terrifying. Knowing that he had attacked Greg had horrified her. She hadn't thought she could face Greg again, but two of his fellows had convinced her that she needed to see him. To her amazement, Greg had been nothing short of wonderful. He hadn't been angry with her at all. She tried to concentrate on those memories instead.

She entered the hospital parking lot and drove toward the entrance. When she didn't see Greg waiting outside, she pulled into his spot and went inside. She felt nervous as she entered the lobby. She did not want to encounter Greg's boss, Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Dr. Cuddy had stayed in Greg's room while Sarah had told him about Todd. The woman had apologized later but the apology hadn't seemed sincere. She had seemed resentful, jealous even, and Sarah just wanted to avoid her.

Sarah made it to the elevator without encountering Dr. Cuddy and took the car to the Greg's floor. When she stepped off the elevator, she nearly ran in to his friend, James Wilson.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, stepping back quickly to avoid hitting him. She plastered a polite smile on her face, trying to repress the resentment she felt toward this man.

"No problem," he replied. "If you're looking for House, he's in Cuddy's office. They have to work out how his clinic hours are getting covered while he's recovering."

"Oh. Ok. I'll just wait in his office. Do you think he'll be long?"

"I wouldn't think they'd be much longer; he's been down there for almost half-an-hour."

"Ok. Thanks for letting me know. Have a good evening."

"Yeah, you too," Wilson said, smiling. It didn't reach his eyes.

Sarah nodded and started down the hall. _I don't understand how Greg could forgive you_, she thought.

* * *

House shifted in his chair for the third time in ten minutes, trying to find a comfortable position. Cuddy looked up from her computer screen.

"Hurting?" she asked gently.

"I have a broken collar-bone, cracked ribs, and a big chunk of thigh missing," House retorted. "What do you think?"

"I think we're done," Cuddy said, clicking her mouse one last time. "We've got your clinic hours covered while you're recovering."

"Thank God for that," House said. Cuddy rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, but she was smiling.

"Do you need a ride home?" she asked.

"My neighbor's picking me up," House replied, getting carefully out of the chair.

"How is she?" Cuddy asked as she rose with him.

"She's fine," House replied, starting for the door. He did not want to discuss Sarah; her privacy had been invaded enough last week. Cuddy moved past him to open the door.

"Good," she said. "I'm glad she's doing alright." House was too winded to make a reply but he gave her his most skeptical stare and she flushed. "I _am_ glad."

"Hmph," he managed, moving past her. He felt her watching him as he made his slow way out of her reception area.

* * *

Thirteen looked up as the door to the conference room opened and smiled when she saw Sarah coming in. She'd been very pleased to see the other woman drop House off that morning. Thirteen had seen a side of House that she'd suspected existed but never thought he'd actually reveal last week as he'd comforted Sarah. They were good for each other.

"Hi," she said. "How are you?"

"Hi," Sarah answered. "I'm alright. You?"

"Tired, but good. I was in the clinic most of the day. House is downstairs with Cuddy."

"I know. I ran into Dr. Wilson at the elevator." Sarah moved forward to take the chair at the end of the cluttered conference table. Thirteen wondered when Sarah had met Wilson; she'd been surprised to find him bringing House lunch when she'd returned to the office at noon. Wilson had ignored House for two weeks after he asked him to move out. He hadn't even visited House while he was a patient.

"It looks like they were catching up on paperwork up here," Thirteen said, gesturing at the file-strewn table. "Cuddy's let House out of clinic duty while his arm is in the sling."

"That's good. Moving around hurts, not that he wants to admit it." Sarah looked away and Thirteen could see guilt on her face. She didn't know what she should say. She knew House wouldn't appreciate it if she got involved here; he'd only tolerated it last week because he'd been trapped in a hospital bed.

The conference room door opened and Thirteen looked up to see House entering. He came to a stop when he saw Sarah was with her.

"What are you still doing here?" he demanded.

"Just wrapping up," Thirteen said, getting up from her chair. "Nice to see you again, Sarah." She made her way out of the conference room and headed for the doctor's locker-room. House seemed particularly testy this evening; she hoped he didn't take it out on Sarah.

* * *

Greg was quiet on the way home. Sarah tried to avoid the bumps and potholes popping up everywhere but she still saw him wince several times. He was due for another dose of pain medication soon; he just needed to have something to eat first. She had a pot roast in her crock pot and planned to serve it as soon as she finished taking Maggie for her evening walk.

When they got to Baker Street, Greg went straight to her apartment. Sarah set his back-pack down just inside the door and helped him get his coat off while Maggie jumped at the baby-gate, barking joyfully. Greg moved carefully to the couch and Sarah scooped up the dog to prevent her from jumping on him.

"I'm just going to take her out for her walk and then we can eat and you can take your pills," Sarah said. Greg nodded. Sarah wheeled over one of her two ottomans for him and helped him get his feet up onto it. "We'll hurry."

"Ok." Greg leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. Sarah got Maggie into her harness and hurried out, grateful for once for her dog's habit of almost running to get to the park.

* * *

House was hurting. For once he barely noticed the pain in his leg; the pains in his shoulder and side were commanding his attention instead. He also felt exhausted, and that was after a day of charting. Or, rather, watching his team do charting. All he'd had to do was sign in the appropriate places. How was he going to handle it if he had an actual case to work on? Everything exhausted him right now.

House was dozing, only half-awake, when the phone rang. He started, gasping at a sharp pain in his side, and fumbled for the phone, which sat on the sofa table right behind his head.

"Hello," he growled.

"Who is this?" demanded the woman on the other end.

"Who is _this_?" House retorted before it occurred to him that he was in Sarah's apartment, not his own. There was a click as the person on the other end of the phone hung up. House turned off the phone and set it on the couch beside him. A minute later it rang again. He picked it up.

"Hello," he said.

"I am looking for Sarah Kelly." It was the same woman he'd spoken to a moment ago. Her voice grew more shrill as she continued. "If you don't tell me who you are and what you're doing in her apartment this minute, I'm hanging up and calling the police."

"Sarah's taken Maggie out for a walk," House said. "I'm her neighbor. Can I tell her who called?"

"This is her mother. Who are you and how do you know my daughter?"

"I live across the hall from her," House said, trying to be polite. He wanted to tell this woman to go to hell. He reminded himself of all that Sarah had been through. It was only natural that her mother would be protective of her.

"What are you doing in her apartment?"

"We're going to eat dinner together when she gets back from walking the dog," House said. It was getting harder to hold on to his patience. He needed to get off of this call before he said something harsh. "I'll let her know that you called." He hung up before she could respond.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her cheeks pink from the cold. Maggie charged toward him and he braced himself, but the dog didn't try to climb into his lap. She sat beside him on the couch and he reached out to pet her.

"Your mother called," he said as Sarah hung up her coat.

"You talked to her?" Sarah sounded alarmed.

"Yeah." House watched her closely, checking her reaction. Sarah was still for a second and then she shrugged.

"I'll talk to her later. Our dinner is ready. C'mon, Maggie, dinner." The dog jumped down and hurried into the kitchen. House levered himself up off of the couch and slowly followed Sarah. He made his way to the kitchen table, pulling his medicine out of his pocket. Sarah got plates down from the cabinet and loaded one with a portion of pot roast. She took milk out of the refrigerator and poured a glass, then brought both things over to House before returning to the crock pot. He frowned at the glass. Sarah had served him milk with every meal since Saturday.

"I'm not five you know," he said testily.

"Increasing your calcium intake should help your bones heal faster," Sarah said calmly.

"I am a doctor," he snapped. "I know that."

Sarah froze, the crock-pot lid just lifted. She set it down carefully and put the spoon back on its rest.

"I'm going to go call my mother," she said quietly, turning so that House couldn't see her face. She left the kitchen and a moment later House heard her bedroom door close quietly.

* * *

"I'm not five you know." Greg sounded irritated.

"Increasing your calcium intake should help your bones heal faster," Sarah said, keeping her voice calm even as she felt tears prickling behind her eyes. She started to lift the crock-pot lid to get her own dinner but froze at Greg's harsh tone.

"I am a doctor. I know that." The tears increased, too many for her to hold back, and she put the lid back down carefully.

"I'm going to go call my mother," she said, turning away so that Greg couldn't see the first few tears slide down her cheeks. She went to the living room and collected her cell phone from her purse before retreating to her bedroom.

Once the door was shut, she leaned back against it and let the tears fall. Part of her knew that she was over-reacting. It had been a long, miserable day and her nerves were raw. She wiped away her tears. _Ok,_ she told herself. _Get a grip. You might as well get this over with._ She lifted her phone and dialed her mother's number, moving to sit on the bed.

"Hi, Mom," she said when her mother answered.

"Sarah, who is that man in your apartment?"

"He's my neighbor. We eat dinner together sometimes." Okay, it was every night, but she wasn't going to tell her mother that.

"When did you meet him?"

"A few weeks ago, when we were both doing laundry."

"Is this why you aren't coming home? You're staying there for this guy that you barely know. Sarah…"

"Mom, that's not why I'm staying here. I told you. I can't just leave – I have a job here, and a lease."

"Well, we can discuss it more when you come home for Christmas." Sarah braced herself.

"I… I'm not going to make it home for Christmas this year, Mom."

"_What_?"

"I don't have any vacation time to use at the University and we only get Christmas Eve off. I looked at flights but there's no way I can afford one. I'm sorry, Mom." Sarah closed her eyes as her mother began to lecture her on how much more expensive living in New Jersey was than in Indiana, how foolish going there had been in the first place, and how short-sighted Sarah had been to use up her vacation time. Sarah let her go for several minutes before she couldn't take any more. "Mom, I need to go. I'm sorry I can't come home. I'll talk to you later." She ended the call and put the phone down on her bed. The tears were back and she took in big gulps of air, trying to steady herself.

* * *

House sat at Sarah's table, picking at the food on his plate. He could hear her voice from the bedroom but he couldn't make out the words. He looked at the glass of milk, sitting by his plate on the table. _She was just trying to help_, he thought. _Why did you have to act like such a jerk? You have to do better than this_.

He forced himself to eat more of the pot roast on his plate. The beef had slow-cooked all day and he could've cut it with a spoon. Once he'd eaten about half of the portion Sarah had served him, he shook out his pills and took them, following them with the milk. He drained the glass.

He heard the bedroom door open and then water running in the bathroom. Sarah came back into the kitchen a few minutes later. She went back to the crock-pot and scooped out a small portion of the roast. When she sat down at the table, House could see that her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

"Was it any good?" she asked, gesturing toward his plate.

"Yeah," he said, unsure what to say to her. She'd obviously been crying but was that due to him or her mother?

"Good." She nodded, using her fork to shred the meat on her plate.

"Sarah…" House started to speak but his cell-phone started to ring. "Dancing Queen" by Abba meant it was Wilson calling. He pulled the phone out of his pocket to answer it. "What's up, Wilson?"

"I was wondering if you had dinner plans this evening? I'm going by that Thai place you like – I could bring you something."

"Thanks, but I just finished eating."

"Oh. Ok. Maybe some other time." House looked up as Sarah rose from her seat. She collected his plate and glass and then reached for her own. It didn't look like she'd eaten anything.

"Yeah. I gotta go, Wilson." He ended the call and watched as Sarah continued to clean up.

"You don't have to spend every evening with me," she said quietly.

"I like it here," House said, watching her closely. Did she want him to leave? "Did you get to talk to your mother?"

"Yes," Sarah said. She put the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and closed it up. She fussed about the sink; House only had her in profile. He wished she would come and sit at the table so that he could see her whole face. "She's not very happy with me at the moment."

"Still wants you to move back home?"

"Yeah." Sarah finished wiping down the counters and looked over at House. "Did you… Never mind."

* * *

Sarah didn't feel hungry. She shredded her pot roast on her plate while Greg talked to Dr. Wilson on the phone. After a minute, she got up from the table and collected the dirty dishes. The milk glass was empty she noted. She could feel Greg watching her as she disposed of her uneaten food and started to put the dishes into the dishwasher.

"I gotta go, Wilson," he said, ending the call.

"You don't have to spend every evening with me," she said, not turning to look at him.

"I like it here. Did you get to talk to your mother?"

"Yes," Sarah said, closing the dishwasher. She started to wipe down the sink, just to have something to do. "She's not very happy with me at the moment." That was an understatement.

"Still wants you to move back home?"

"Yeah." Sarah wiped down the counters and looked over at Greg. "Did you… Never mind." She stopped herself before asking him if he'd taken his medication. He didn't need her to remind him.

"I took my pills," he said and she nodded.

"That's good." She leaned back against the counter, keeping her distance. She still felt on the verge of tears. Maggie barked from the living room and Sarah went to see what the dog was doing.

They wound up watching a movie, Greg on one end of the couch and Sarah at the other. He left when the film was over, saying that he was tired. Sarah went to bed shortly afterwards. She lay in the darkness, thinking over the evening. Greg was tired and hurting. It was only natural that he would be short-tempered. She'd probably seemed like a patronizing idiot, shoving the milk at him all the time. Of course he knew what he needed to do to heal his arm.

"I'm just the idiot who got him hurt in the first place," she muttered to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Insert boring disclaimer here. I don't own House, etc., just the lady and her dog. I appreciate the alert sign-ups, favs, and especially the reviews. You keep 'em coming and I'll keep the chapters coming! Deal? :)**

House got ready for bed. He looked at the t-shirt he intended to wear and decided against it. Pulling on t-shirts simply hurt too much right now. Getting into a button-front for work was bad enough. He got an extra blanket from the closet instead and didn't wear a shirt to bed.

He was exhausted but once he was lying in the darkness, he couldn't stop his mind from going. He had really screwed up with Sarah this evening. He'd been tired and cranky and he'd taken it out on her.

Sarah hadn't told him why she was choosing to stay in Princeton instead of returning home. Part of him was thrilled by the thought that she might be staying for him. Another part of him found that thought frightening. If she chose to stay and their relationship (whatever it was) didn't work out, he would be responsible. He'd have kept her away from people who loved and cared for her, for nothing. He couldn't keep screwing up the way he had this evening. _I will do better tomorrow_, he promised himself.

* * *

Sarah didn't sleep well. She kept replaying the events of the day – the secretary's resentful behavior, Greg's hostility, her mother's anger and disappointment. What would tomorrow have in store? The thought made her stomach twist into knots.

At 4:30 she gave in and got up. Maggie blinked sleepily at her when she climbed out of the bed, then burrowed back under the covers. Sarah smiled and gave the little lump in her bed a pat before heading out into the kitchen. She dug through her cabinets, searching for a blueberry muffin mix she thought might be in there. She had time; they'd be perfect for breakfast. Greg had to eat something so that he could take his morning dose of medication and the muffins would be portable if there wasn't time to eat before they had to leave.

Once the pan was in the oven, Sarah took her shower and dressed. The muffins were just finished when Maggie got up; Sarah put them on a rack to cool before she got the dog into her harness and took her outside.

Sarah had just finished feeding Maggie when she heard a knock on her door. It was getting late and the car still needed to be defrosted. She grabbed up her coat on her way to open the door, and found Greg on the other side.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." She stepped aside to let him in, pulling her coat back on. "There are muffins in the kitchen. I'm going to start defrosting the car." She hurried out.

* * *

House woke up because he hurt. He lay in bed for a few minutes, trying to assess if the pain was less than it had been on previous days. He wanted to believe that it was but he feared he was fooling himself.

He got up slowly, moving carefully. Climbing in and out of the tub was more tricky than usual as he only had one free arm. He really needed to add some handles in here, or have his bathroom re-done. A walk-in tub would certainly be easier for him to use, but it meant admitting that he couldn't manage a normal bath-tub. Even after all these years, he wasn't prepared to do that.

When he reached Sarah's door, he could smell something baking. In the chilly hallway the fragrance was wonderful. He had Sarah's spare key still but he still knocked. He didn't feel right letting himself in, especially not after the way he'd behaved the night before. It was time to apologize to Sarah.

Sarah opened the door, her coat in her hand.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied, stepping back to let him in while pulling on her coat. "I'm going to start defrosting the car." She slipped past him, out of the apartment, pulling the door shut behind her. He looked at the closed door; she hadn't given him a chance to talk. With a sigh, he turned to follow the delicious smell to the kitchen.

A dozen blueberry muffins rested on a cooling rack on the kitchen table. Sarah had put a plate and glass out for him, but the glass was empty. A carton of milk rested on the table but there was also a bottle of cranberry juice. He studied his choices for a second before pouring himself a glass of milk.

* * *

The frost was especially thick that morning and it took Sarah longer than she'd expected to defrost the car. It was after 7 before she finished and she hurried back to the apartment. They had to get going or she would be late for work.

When she rushed in, she found Greg in the kitchen, hobbling cane-less toward the sink. She took the empty glass from his hand and carried it the rest of the way over, rinsing it quickly before putting it into the dishwasher. When she looked back, Greg had pulled out storage bags. She stepped around him, putting the left-over muffins into a large bag. Greg snatched one.

"Your breakfast," he said, putting it into a smaller bag.

"Thanks," she said, taking the bag and handing him his cane.

"Hey," Greg said, catching at her hand.

"We're going to be late," Sarah said, pulling away. She knew that if she was late, it would only make things with the secretary worse. Greg followed her after a second, pulling his coat over his good arm and letting it drape around the bad one.

Greg was quiet on the drive to the hospital. Sarah had the radio on, playing quietly but she hardly heard the music. The roads were slippery and she was focused on her driving, her hands clenched on the steering wheel. She had to let go and flex her fingers when they stopped at a red-light.

Sarah drove the car up to the sidewalk outside the hospital entrance. She got out of the car and came around to open the door for Greg. He waved her away once the door was open and got himself out of the seat on his own. Once he was on his feet, she reached into the back-seat to get out his back-pack. She turned to hand it to him and found Dr. Cuddy standing there.

"I'll take that," the older woman said. She took hold of the back-pack and Sarah let it go. She looked to Greg. He was looking at Dr. Cuddy, his face unreadable. No one spoke for a moment. Sarah shivered in the biting wind and thought about their late start. She needed to get going.

"You'd better go inside before you freeze," she said, addressing them both. Dr. Cuddy wasn't wearing a coat at all and Greg only had one arm in his. He turned his gaze away from Dr. Cuddy to look at her. "I'll see you this evening."

"I'll call you," he said. "I may have a case." He looked back to Dr. Cuddy, who was hugging herself.

"Ok." Sarah nodded. The cold was stinging her cheeks. Greg was still looking at Dr. Cuddy and blocking her path forward, so Sarah went around the back of the car to get to the driver's side. Greg looked up as she opened her door.

"I'll call you," he repeated and she nodded, getting into the warm car. She watched as he and Dr. Cuddy made their way into the hospital before driving off.

* * *

Thirteen had just pulled on her lab-coat and shut her locker when the locker-room door opened and Chase came in. He stumbled a bit as he came through the door. His hair was greasy and his eyes were bloodshot.

"You look like hell," she said before she could stop herself. Chase froze and frowned at her before he continued on his way to his locker. Thirteen sighed and left the locker-room.

She'd thought that Chase was finally straightening himself out. He'd seemed fine last week. Now it looked like he'd gone back to drinking his nights away. She was surprised at how disappointed she felt.

House was already in his office when she reached the conference room. Cuddy was with him. No one else was in the conference room. Thirteen moved quietly to the computer, intending to check her email and, she admitted to herself, eavesdrop.

"Sarah seemed tense this morning," Cuddy was saying. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine," House said tersely. "It's freezing out – of course she didn't want to stand around and chat."

"House, she went through several traumatic events last week. She's not going to be able to just walk away from those with no repercussions."

"Cuddy … I am not discussing this with you." Thirteen hesitated. House's voice was quiet but he was clearly furious. Her fingers hovered above the keys, not daring to even type, as she waited to hear Cuddy's reply.

"I'm just saying, House, that this isn't as simple as you're trying to make it."

"Cuddy…" Thirteen got to her feet, deliberately letting the chair bang into the window behind her so that they'd hear her. She couldn't believe Cuddy was pushing forward with this conversation. The door between House's office and the conference room opened and House poked his head in, spotting Thirteen almost immediately.

"Sorry," she said. "I bumped into the chair – didn't mean to startle you." House narrowed his eyes at her for a second, then nodded his head. He came the rest of the way into the room and started for the coffee-pot. Thirteen caught a glimpse of Cuddy going by out in the hallway.

* * *

House was angry. Cuddy had followed him up from the lobby, carrying his backpack. He'd tried to get her to hand it over to him but she'd ignored him. She peppered him with questions instead.

"Sarah seemed tense this morning. Is she alright?" House agreed that Sarah had been tense this morning. He didn't know how much of it was caused by his behavior the previous night and how much was due to the late start and the slippery roads. He didn't want to discuss any of it with Cuddy.

"She's fine. It's freezing out – of course she didn't want to stand around and chat."

"House, she went through several traumatic events last week. She's not going to be able to just walk away from those with no repercussions."

"Cuddy… I am not discussing this with you." House stopped himself from saying more. He was furious but he knew that he was angry at himself as much as at Cuddy. She was right. Sarah had gone through a lot. _And instead of being supportive, you act like a petulant child when she tries to help you,_ he thought.

"I'm just saying, House, that this isn't as simple as you're trying to make it."

"Cuddy…" A loud bang from the conference room cut him off. He limped to the door and poked his head in, spotting a guilty-looking Thirteen standing at the desk. The chair was back against the window. He wondered how long she'd been listening.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I bumped the chair. I didn't mean to startle you." House just stared at her for a second before nodding. She had gotten him out of that conversation. Cuddy was leaving now. He caught a glimpse of her out in the hallway before he hobbled on to the coffee maker.

Of course he couldn't actually carry the coffee for himself; Thirteen wound up taking it to the table for him while he silently cursed the sling that left him one-handed. He'd just settled at the end of the table when the door opened and Chase came in. House noted the frown on Thirteen's face and shifted his gaze back to Chase. The young man went straight to the coffee pot.

Chase's hair was oily, he hadn't shaved, and his eyes were bloodshot. _He's been hitting the bottle again_, House thought as his fellow took a seat near the other end of the table, as far away from House as he could get. House frowned down at him. He'd thought Chase was doing better last week. Of course, last week they'd had a case to work.

Taub came in a few minutes later. House saw him note Chase's appearance and shake his head.

"Go find us a case," House said. Taub stared at him.

"You're looking for work now?"

"Go find a case, or cover the clinic," House retorted. Taub looked over at Thirteen, who shrugged.

"Let's check the ER," she said, starting for the door.

"Not you," House said. "You're in the clinic this morning." Thirteen paused and stared at him.

"I was in the clinic yesterday," she protested.

"Then you should be able to find your way back," House replied, getting up carefully and starting toward his office. "Chase, go with Taub. Don't come back without a case."

* * *

Sarah's morning had not gone well. She'd made it in just before 8 after a white-knuckle drive from the hospital to the campus. The secretary continued to be hostile toward her. A professor had a computer issue and she had a feeling his unit was going to have to be reformatted. Of course, he hadn't backed up his data. He was not happy when Sarah told him he might lose all his files.

When lunch time came, Sarah was grateful to escape, even though it meant going out in the cold. She walked the short distance to a restaurant for her lunch. In all the chaos she hadn't gotten to eat her muffin and she was starting to feel sick from hunger.

She quickened her steps on the walk back from lunch. The wind had kicked up and she pulled the hood of her coat closer around her face. A few snowflakes blew about. If the wind hadn't been so biting, Sarah would've taken a few minutes to admire the Christmas decorations.

There were few people on campus; finals had been last week and most students were gone for the semester break. She was almost back to the building when she saw him. He was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette, and for a second Sarah froze. _It can't be,_ she thought. _He's dead. He's __dead__!_ She took a deep breath of the cold air, steadying herself. She was imagining things; Todd was gone.

"You're being stupid," she muttered, quickening her pace again.

* * *

Thirteen carried the patient file back to the clinic desk. With most of the college students out of town for semester break and Christmas, she'd thought the clinic would slow down, but when she'd arrived she'd found the waiting room as crowded as ever.

She lifted another file and paused. Across the room, by the doors into the lobby, stood Drs. Cuddy and Wilson. They were talking, Wilson glancing around furtively every few seconds. Thirteen opened the file in her hands and pretended to look at it while she watched them. Cuddy motioned for Wilson to follow her and they started toward the dean's office. Thirteen tried to bury her face in the file, hoping to escape their attention.

"What does he really know about her?" Cuddy was asking softly as they passed by.

"I don't know. Didn't Lucas find out anything last week?"

"He didn't have to do much digging to find her."

"Cuddy, I'm not sure…"

"Ssh," Cuddy hissed as they passed Thirteen. They disappeared through the doors leading to Cuddy's office and Thirteen stared after them, wishing there was a way to hear the rest of their conversation.

* * *

The case that Taub and Chase found in the ER hadn't looked promising at first glance, but it was proving more complicated than initial appearances had suggested. House was still narrowing down possibilities that afternoon. He'd even relented and retrieved Thirteen from the clinic after lunch.

He was sitting in the conference room, studying the white board. The team was running more tests on the patient. He should have been continuing his differential, but instead he was wondering if he should call Sarah or not. It was nearly 5 o'clock and if he wanted to get a ride home with her, he needed to let her know. He just wasn't sure if he should leave now. He had a feeling that he was close to the solution.

He heard the conference room door open behind him and moved painfully in the chair to discover that it was Wilson coming in. Wilson gestured toward the board.

"How's it going?" he asked.

"He's not dead yet," House said, looking back to the board. The answer was right there, staring him in the face. He knew it. He heard Wilson pull out one of the chairs behind him. When another minute passed and Wilson still hadn't said a word, he turned again to stare at him. "What do you want?"

"I'm just waiting."

"In my conference room. Why?"

"There's coffee here."

"Which you aren't drinking." Wilson chuckled.

"I missed this," he said and House frowned. He knew what Wilson meant. He also knew how he was supposed to respond.

"Being berated for where you choose to sit?"

"Watching you analyze everything I do," Wilson replied, still chuckling. "Does it drive Sarah crazy? It made Stacy nuts." House hesitated before answering.

"It's different, with her," he said. He knew that was an inadequate description but he couldn't seem to find the right words. "_I'm_ different with her." He looked away, feeling his face growing warm. He could tell that Wilson was still watching him, waiting for him to say more. The trill of a beeper sounded and both men jumped, House wincing as he did so.

"It's mine," Wilson said, getting to his feet. "I'll talk to you later." He hurried out of the conference room. House glanced at the clock. It was 5:15. He was just wondering if he had time to catch Sarah on her way home when his own pager sounded. His patient was crashing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Still don't own House. Bummer. Anyway, here we go on the continuing adventures of House and Sarah. Thank you again for the alert sign ups and the reviews - they are addictive and I am hooked so keep 'em coming. I don't want to detox any time soon. :) It's freezing outside and a we're in a winter storm watch but this chapter will hopefully warm you all up! **

Sarah lingered in her office for a few minutes after five, straightening piles of papers on her desk. She'd waved the secretary on ahead when the woman had hesitated to leave; usually they walked out together but Sarah was still hoping her cell phone would ring. When five minutes passed, she gave up. If she stayed any longer the department chair would, despite having just proclaimed that she didn't need to stay late, start handing her things to do. She locked up her files and headed out.

Sarah drove slowly away from campus. Her cell phone rested on the seat beside her. She glanced at it at each stop, but it never rang. As she reached the hospital she slowed even more, until a car behind her honked its horn. With a sigh Sarah sped up and drove on towards home. _Greg must've caught a case_, she thought. She hoped that was all; he'd been trying to talk to her this morning but she'd been in such a hurry, she hadn't given him a chance. _We've got to get better at this_, she told herself.

* * *

Thirteen emerged from the patient's room, still shaky from the adrenaline rush. They had been running a test when the man had crashed. They'd had to shock his heart three times to get him back.

She looked down the hall to see House coming toward her. _So much for going to tell him_, she thought, wondering who had paged him. She'd been too busy to do it herself.

"He's stable," she said once House was close enough that she didn't have to shout.

"What happened?" House demanded.

"We were running the test and he just… crashed."

"Did you finish the test?"

"No, we stopped when the guy started dying."

"He was already dying."

"House…" Thirteen bit back her exasperation.

"Why did he start dying faster?" House asked. Thirteen thought back to the whiteboard with the list of symptoms. Everything started to click. She could feel House watching her. A slow smile spread across her face as she realized what was wrong with their patient. House smiled back, and she knew he knew she'd figured it out.

"About time you got here," Foreman snapped, coming out of the room and stepping between them.

"Was I supposed to work the paddles one-handed?" asked House. "Thirteen's got it under control." He turned and limped off, back toward the elevator. Foreman turned to stare at Thirteen, Taub and Chase coming out behind him. She grinned at the puzzled frown on Eric's face and started to explain what was wrong with their patient.

* * *

Sarah had just gotten inside from walking Maggie when her phone started ringing. She released the dog from her harness and hurried to answer the phone.

"Hello?"

"Sarah." Her mother's tone was a mixture of concern and disapproval and Sarah braced herself for a lecture.

"Hi, Mom." Sarah tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder and made her way into the kitchen to get Maggie her dinner.

"Can you talk? Is your neighbor there again?"

"He had to work late tonight." Sarah took a deep breath and went on. "Mom, about Christmas…"

"What happened, Sarah? I thought you were doing alright out there. If you can't afford…"

"It isn't that, Mom. I'm fine. Some… stuff happened last week."

"Stuff with Todd?"

"Yes. He showed up on campus on Monday. I couldn't … I didn't go in for the rest of the week. That's how I used up my vacation time." Sarah put the dog's food down and paced the kitchen, trying to burn off the adrenaline rush that just thinking about Todd caused. "I was going to get in my car and just drive away. I didn't feel I could stay here. I left the apartment to go get some money and put gas in the car, and when I came back, he was on the sidewalk. I couldn't go in."

"What about Maggie?"

"Greg – that's my neighbor – took care of her for me."

"He has a key to your place?"

"I was sick the week before. I gave him my spare key because he was checking on me. He's a doctor."

"Ok." Sarah knew her mother was filing that away to ask about later. "Where did you go?"

"I went to a hotel and hid. My tires got slashed while I was there. That's where my money went."

"Honey… I'm glad this Greg person was there for Maggie. He seemed a little… terse on the phone yesterday."

"He was hurting. He's got a broken collar-bone and two cracked ribs and he was due for another dose of pain medication when you called."

"What happened to him?"

"Todd… attacked him. He was looking for me and when he saw Greg with Maggie, he thought Greg knew where I was." Sarah closed her eyes briefly, remembering how Greg had looked when she'd first seen him in his hospital room.

"Oh my God. That poor man. I'm amazed that he wants anything to do with you after that."

"So am I, Mom," Sarah said.

They had talked for a few more minutes before Sarah's mother ended the call. Sarah heard about how her brother and his wife might be coming by briefly on Christmas day. She felt a pang, thinking of her parents being all alone on Christmas Eve.

* * *

House watched the smile spread across Thirteen's face and knew she'd just had an epiphany. She knew what was wrong with the patient. He'd realized it himself on his way down here but, for once, he was content to let someone else do the explaining. He was tired and hurting; he just wanted to go home. He left a flabbergasted Foreman behind and returned to the elevator, hoping he'd find Wilson and be able to get a lift home.

He went to Wilson's office first, but the man wasn't there, or the diagnostics' conference room either. When House went into his own office, he found a sandwich on his desk and a note. _Have to sit with a patient for a while. Take your medicine. _ It was signed with a W. House sat down in his recliner, debating on calling Sarah or waiting for Wilson to finish with his patient. He ate part of his sandwich and took his evening dose of medication. A few minutes later his team walked in.

"We've started treatment," Thirteen told him.

"Good. Chase, go monitor the patient. Taub, Thirteen – go home." Chase sighed and turned to leave the office, Taub on his heels. Thirteen went into the conference room.

"What about me?" demanded Foreman.

"Stay here and monitor Chase," House said quietly. He could see Thirteen over by the coffee-maker but he wanted to make sure she didn't hear this.

"Chase…"

"Stay here," House repeated, moving to the edge of the seat. He swayed slightly as he stood, his balance thrown off by having one arm trapped in a sling. Foreman stepped back, watching him, but didn't offer to help. Once House was standing, Foreman turned and walked out. House looked into the conference room to see Thirteen watching him. She came back toward his door as he moved to get his backpack.

"Need a lift home?" she asked.

"Have you gotten a real car yet?" he asked.

"It's after dark. No one will see you. I'll meet you out in front in ten minutes." Thirteen left, chuckling softly. House rolled his eyes and got down his coat.

* * *

House was waiting on the sidewalk when Thirteen brought her car up. He got in, wincing a little as he settled into the seat. He tried to stretch out his leg but the confines of the Smart Car's cab didn't allow it.

"It's a short drive," Thirteen said. He responded with a grunt. She drove away from the hospital, dodging a pothole that had sprung up in the parking lot. She glanced at House and saw that he had his eyes shut. _Should I tell him about the conversation I overheard? What are Wilson and Cuddy up to anyway? _She stole another glance at House as she came to a stop at a red-light. His face looked drawn and tired. _I don't know enough to tell him anything definite_.

"Chase is drinking again," House said, not opening his eyes. "If he can't keep it together, I'm going to have to fire him. Again."

"He was doing better last week," Thirteen said.

"Why?" House asked. "Because we had cases to work?"

"Maybe." _He did better when he was helping __you_, she thought, but she didn't dare say it. She wanted to ask him why he kept sending her to the clinic but she couldn't see that conversation going well either. She decided against mentioning what she'd overheard that morning. She needed to find out more before she added to House's worries.

* * *

After her conversation with her mother, Sarah had needed to do something to lift her mood so she'd gotten out her Christmas decorations. She'd taken a small oval table from her bedroom and put it by the front window. Her three-foot tree sat on it, draped with a beaded garland and covered with small glass ornaments. Fake pine garland was draped along the tops of her book-cases, the white lights in it gleaming.

"What do you think, Maggie?" Sarah asked, looking over at the dog, who was lying on the couch. "Looks more like Christmas in here, doesn't it?" The dog lifted her head for a second, sighed, and put it back down again. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I disturb your nap?" Maggie lifted her head again, this time looking toward the door, and a second later Sarah heard a familiar knock. She hurried over to let Greg in.

"Hi," she said, stepping back to let him in.

"Hi," he said, smiling. She helped him get out of his coat, hearing the rapid thump-thump as Maggie's wagging tail hit the couch. Greg took a few steps into the room and stopped, looking around at the decorations before moving on to the couch. "You've been busy."

"It didn't take that long," Sarah said, sitting down beside him. "Have you eaten yet?"

"I had a sandwich at the hospital," Greg replied, looking away from her Christmas tree and back to her. "And I took my medicine."

"That's good," Sarah said, feeling butterflies forming in her stomach. She didn't want a repeat of last night and she feared they were heading that way.

"I wanted to talk to you, about last night," Greg said and she felt her heart speed up.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down at the floor as the words came tumbling out. "I shouldn't have nagged you or kept pushing the milk on you. You got hurt because of me and I…"

"Hey!" Greg reached out to catch her hand and she looked up. "This is _not_ your fault. You have nothing to apologize for. I acted like a jerk last night."

Sarah looked at him, seeing the worry in his face. "Neither of us were at our best," she said.

* * *

"I wanted to talk to you, about last night," House said, feeling nervous. Apologies didn't come easy but he knew he owed her one. He had to make things right between them again.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down at the floor. Her words came out in a rush. "I shouldn't have nagged you or kept pushing the milk on you. You got hurt because of me and I…"

"Hey," he protested, reaching over to take her shaking hand. "This is _not_ your fault. You have nothing to apologize for. I acted like a jerk last night." She looked up at him and he searched her face, trying to read her expression.

"Neither of us were at our best," she said finally and he shook his head.

"You were trying to help me. I… I need to get better at accepting help."

"You were tired and hurting. You got stuck on the phone with my mother, which couldn't have been pleasant."

"She threatened to call the police if I didn't identify myself," House said. Yesterday it had been irritating. Today it was almost funny.

Sarah looked like she was both exasperated and amused. "Oh no! Really?"

"I hope she wasn't too upset when you called her back."

"She wasn't very happy when I told her I couldn't come home for Christmas this year."

"I'm sorry." House didn't know what else to say.

"It's ok. We've never done a big family Christmas, even when I was a kid but we have one tradition. On Christmas Eve we get a bunch of appetizers – stuff like cheese and crackers and shrimp cocktail – and we pig out while watching movies or playing cards." Sarah took a deep breath and went on. "I was wondering, if you don't have plans that night, if you'd like to join me." House felt a rush of pleasure at the invitation.

"I'd love to join you," he said and Sarah smiled broadly. House took another look around the room at her decorations.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"There's one thing missing," he said.

"Missing?"

"You have no mistletoe." He put his good arm over her shoulders, and she moved closer to him.

"I've always been afraid to have it around for fear Maggie would chew it up – it's poisonous." She was looking at him, her head tilted back just a little. He leaned in closer.

"Maybe we don't need it after all," he murmured, his lips hovering above hers. A second later they closed the gap, proving him right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Insert lame disclaimer here. The woman and her dog are mine - the rest belong to David Shore (that lucky devil - he gets to hang out with Hugh Laurie). Thanks again for the sign-ups and reviews. **

_Todd pushed Sarah closer and closer to the bed behind her. One of his hands gripped her arm while the other was clamped tightly over her mouth, stopping her screams. He was smiling at her, his eyes glinting behind his glasses._

_ "Alone at last," he said. The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she sat down. He never lost his grip, pushing her back onto the bed and climbing over her. __No, this isn't how it happened!_ her mind screamed_. __This isn't real__! _

Sarah sat straight up in her bed, her heart racing. She gasped for breath, shivering as the sweat coating her began to evaporate. Maggie poked her head out from under to covers to look at Sarah. She slid back down under the covers and pulled the dog close to her.

"It was just a dream," Sarah said, hugging Maggie. "Just a dream."

* * *

House woke up ahead of his alarm and lay in his bed, thinking about the previous evening. A smile spread over his face. _Nope, no mistletoe needed_, he thought. _Can't wait to get out of this sling though._ He'd found it very frustrating, having only one hand free. If he put his arm around Sarah, then he had no hand with which to caress her face or hair. Having his arm trapped between them had also kept them from getting as close as he would have liked. _Two-and-a-half more weeks of this,_ he thought, cursing the sling. His alarm went off and he reluctantly got out of bed.

The pipe in his shower groaned as he gripped it to climb in and he looked up, hoping he wasn't pulling apart the plumbing again. It had cost a small fortune to have it repaired last time. He was going to have to give in and get handles installed, at least.

No baking smells greeted him in the hallway this morning. He knocked twice and Sarah opened the door a second later.

"Hi," she said, stepping back to let him in.

"Hi." He took in her clothes – blue jeans and a red sweater that looked like it would feel incredibly soft. It was not her usual work attire. "Casual day at the office?"

"Mm-hm. We close early today – at 3pm, for the holiday."

"Oh. Should I try to get a lift home from someone else?"

"I plan to go shopping after work, get the food for tomorrow night, and then come and get you. Is that ok?" She led the way into the kitchen, where she was assembling something in her crock-pot. She'd gotten out the left-over muffins and House moved to sit at the table and eat one.

"That's fine," he said, easing into a chair. Sarah had her back to him, adding things to the crock-pot. "About tomorrow – should I get anything?"

"If there's something in particular you want to snack on, let me know and I can pick it up this afternoon." Sarah put the lid on the crock pot and turned around to face him.

"I was thinking about … gifts," he said, feeling nervous.

"No, you don't need to worry about gifts," she said quickly. "Maggie and I will be glad just to have your company." She flushed a little. House felt warmth filling him. _She wants my company,_ he thought. He couldn't remember a time when someone had said that to him.

* * *

"About tomorrow – should I get anything?" Greg asked. Sarah stirred the mixture in her crock pot, hoping Greg would like her mother's recipe for goulash.

"If there's anything in particular you want to snack on, let me know and I can pick it up this afternoon," she said, putting the lid on the crock pot before turning around to face Greg.

"I was thinking about…gifts." Greg frowned, watching her closely.

"No, you don't need to worry about gifts. Maggie and I will be glad just to have your company." Greg smiled, his eyes lighting up, and Sarah felt herself flush. It was true, but she hadn't meant to sound so… sappy. "I'm going to go defrost the car." She made her way out to the living room to get her coat.

The frost was light this morning and it didn't take much time for Sarah to get the car cleaned off. She left the engine running, letting the heater work on the interior, and went back inside to get Greg. She found him in the living room, getting his coat.

"The car's ready. Are you?"

"Almost," he said and she stepped forward to help him into the coat. Once he had it on, she started to step back but he reached out to cup her chin. He leaned in, brushing her lips lightly with his. "Now I'm ready."

"Ok." Sarah couldn't help smiling. She thought back to last night, when Greg had effectively demonstrated that mistletoe was completely unnecessary, and she felt giddy.

Her giddiness lasted throughout the drive to the hospital, and she was still smiling when she got out to help Greg out of the car and handed him his backpack. He looked down at her, cocking his head to one side quizzically. On impulse, Sarah sprung up onto her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers.

"Have a good day," she said, watching the smile spread across his face.

"I'll call you if I get hung up with a case," he said.

"Ok."

* * *

Thirteen stepped into the doctor's lounge, moving to the refrigerator to store the lunch she'd brought from home. She turned from the fridge and came to a stop. Chase was stretched out on one of the couches, his lab coat draped over him, snoring softly.

For a minute she just watched him. She didn't know what had gone wrong between him and Cameron but she'd heard through the hospital grapevine that he'd been a mess before that. Something had happened shortly after Eric fired her, something that had started Chase on the path of self-destruction.

The door to the lounge opened and Thirteen jumped guiltily. She turned to see a doctor from Pedes coming in. She gave him a nod of greeting and left, heading for the diagnostics office. _Foreman knows what happened,_ she thought, _not that I'm going to ask him._ She was avoiding any contact with Eric outside of work. She still couldn't understand why he'd really thought he could fire her and keep her as his girlfriend. _I can't believe how much time I wasted with that selfish jerk._

She approached the lobby, intending to go to the elevators, but stopped. She could see out the front doors. House was on the sidewalk with Sarah and as Thirteen watched, the other woman went up on tip toe and gave House a quick kiss. Thirteen grinned. _Good for them_, she thought.

House turned to enter the hospital and Thirteen took a step back, not wanting him to see her. She didn't think he'd appreciate knowing that she'd seen the kiss. Her giant grin wouldn't help matters.

House was almost to the elevators when the doors opened again and Wilson came in. He was moving fast, and as House stepped into an elevator, he called out. Thirteen stared at him, feeling apprehensive. If Wilson saw the kiss, he would tease House about it. She moved forward but it was too late for her to join them in the elevator. She quickly summoned another car.

* * *

House resisted the urge to whistle as he crossed the lobby. He was looking forward to spending Christmas Eve with Sarah. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone to celebrate holidays with, since he'd felt like celebrating _anything_.

He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for his floor. A second later he heard someone call out and he raised his cane to stop the doors from closing. Wilson slipped inside.

"Thanks, House," he said. "You seem… cheerful this morning."

"Hmm." House wasn't sure how to respond. He thought back to the brief kiss on the sidewalk. How many people had seen that? Had Wilson? House started to feel apprehensive.

"So, was that Sarah I saw dropping you off?" Wilson asked and House felt his cheeks grow warm. Wilson was grinning; he _had_ seen the kiss.

"Yes." House felt his apprehension increase. His good mood had been abandoned down in the lobby. The elevator reached their floor and House stepped out, eager to get away from this conversation. Unfortunately Wilson had no trouble keeping up with him.

"Are you bringing her to the party?" Wilson asked.

"Aren't you Jewish?" House shot back. They came even with Wilson's door but the oncologist didn't leave his side.

"It's never stopped me from going to the party."

"Your office is back there," House said, trying to move faster. His own office door was just a few feet away.

"You still haven't answered my question." Wilson stepped forward to hold the door for him and House limped into his office.

"Seeing you in that stupid moose hat once was one time too many," House said, moving to put his backpack into his desk chair.

"You have plans with Sarah, don't you?" Wilson stepped forward to help him get out of his coat. "You could've just told me that."

"Yeah." House wished he could shrug without it hurting.

"You're embarrassed!" Wilson was almost laughing.

"I am not embarrassed," House retorted even as his cheeks burned. He stared down at his shoes, wishing for an escape from this conversation.

"So," Wilson said, drawing out the word. "What are you getting her for Christmas?"

"She said no gifts," House said, looking up. He was feeling cornered, mentally and physically. He was standing beside his desk. Wilson stood between him and the doors out of the office, and he wouldn't drop the topic of Sarah.

* * *

Thirteen got out of the elevator and made for the diagnostic's office. House and Wilson weren't in the hallway and she hoped they'd gone to House's office instead of Wilson's. It would be harder to invent a reason to interrupt if they were in there and she had a feeling that House was going to want an escape from Wilson.

When she entered the conference room she found Foreman was already there, sitting at the far end of the table with a journal and a cup of coffee in front of him. Instead of his usual suit, he was wearing scrubs.

"Good morning," he said.

"Were you here all night? I thought Chase was monitoring the patient?" Thirteen glanced over to see that House and Wilson were in House's office.

"House asked me to stay too." Foreman sounded annoyed but Thirteen didn't turn away from watching House and Wilson. "He isn't going to like you eavesdropping." Thirteen turned away and went to the coffee pot. She grabbed House's red mug and got coffee, adding the sugar that she knew he liked before carrying the mug toward the office. She was half-way there when she heard Wilson laughing and then House responding.

"I am not embarrassed!"

"So," Wilson asked. "What are you getting her for Christmas?"

"She said no gifts," House answered. There was a note of panic in his voice and Thirteen charged forward, pushing open his office door and forcing Wilson to take a step back to avoid getting hit.

"Morning," she said brightly. "Thought you might like some coffee. Hi, Wilson."

"Dr. Hadley." Wilson gave her a nod of greeting. "See you at lunch, House." He turned and left. House looked over at Thirteen, his expression unreadable. She beat a hasty retreat back to the conference room.

* * *

Sarah went from campus to the grocery store. Her giddy feeling from this morning had not left her and she was smiling and thinking about Christmas Eve as she walked through the aisles. She was not paying a lot of attention to her surroundings and as she turned from one aisle to the next she nearly crashed her cart into someone else's.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" She stepped back, feeling her face grow warm.

"It's no problem," replied the man with the cart. Sarah got her first good look at his face and realized she knew him. It was Lucas Douglas, the investigator Greg had asked to find her when she was hiding from Todd.

"Hi," she said, feeling her face flush.

"Oh, it's you," Lucas stuttered, a nervous smile on his face. "Hi. How are you?"

"I'm ok."

"How's the hand?" Lucas nodded toward Sarah's right hand.

"Fine. I get my stitches out next week." Sarah felt like her brain had frozen. She knew she should make polite conversation but she couldn't think of a thing to say to this man.

"That's good… good." Lucas rocked back and forth on his heels. "So, big holiday plans?"

"Not really." Sarah didn't want to mention her plans with Greg. They weren't big plans but they were special and she didn't feel like sharing them with this stranger.

"Well, uh, nice seeing you again. Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too." Sarah gave him a tight smile as he moved on.

Sarah got to the hospital shortly after five. She pulled into Greg's parking spot to wait for him. After a few minutes, she decided to go in. _Time to run the gauntlet,_ she thought as she stepped into the lobby. She went straight to the elevators, hoping she'd be able to avoid Dr. Cuddy again.

The elevator doors were just starting to close when Dr. Cuddy slipped inside. The two women looked at each other and a fake smile snapped onto Cuddy's face.

"Hi," she said brightly.

"Hello, Dr. Cuddy." Sarah smiled back, trying to be polite. She took in the woman's outfit – a gray pencil skirt paired with a low-cut sweater – and thought once again that it was a bit much for work attire. A diamond journey necklace was a sparkling arrow pointing toward Dr. Cuddy's cleavage, as if anyone could miss it.

"How are you?" the older woman asked.

"I'm fine, thank you." Once again Sarah thought her brain had gotten stuck in first gear somehow. Her stock of polite conversation was exhausted.

"Lucas said he ran in to you at the store. I guess you aren't traveling for the holidays?"

"No, I'm staying here."

"Well, maybe House can bring you to the party tomorrow night." The elevator reached Greg's floor and Sarah stepped out, not feeling too surprised when Dr. Cuddy came with her.

"Maybe," she said. Greg hadn't mentioned the party to her but she didn't want to tell the other woman that. She had a feeling she was being baited. "That's a lovely necklace you're wearing. Early Christmas gift?"

"Lucas gave it to me, as a combination Hanukkah/Christmas gift," Dr. Cuddy said, her hand going to the pendant as her face flushed. They came even with the window into the diagnostics conference room and Sarah looked inside to see Greg and his fellows seated around the table. He was at the end closest to his office and he looked up, meeting her eyes. She gave him a nod of greeting.

"Have a nice time tomorrow," she said to Dr. Cuddy, moving on to enter Greg's office. She was relieved when the older woman didn't follow her.

Greg came in a minute later, frowning.

"What did Cuddy want?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Sarah admitted. "She followed me up from the lobby, talking about holiday plans. She said there's a party here tomorrow night and wanted to know if we'd be coming." Greg's frown deepened.

"I never attend that thing," he said.

"If you want to go…"

"I don't," he said curtly. Sarah was taken aback by his tone. The next time he spoke, his voice had softened. "I'm looking forward to spending the evening with you." Sarah felt her face flush a little with pleasure.

"So am I," she said.

* * *

House had managed to dodge Wilson's physical presence for the rest of the day but he couldn't stop thinking about what his friend had said. His team was back to charting which meant he didn't have anything to distract him.

Did Sarah expect him to bring a gift tomorrow evening? It had been a long time since he'd been involved with anyone and he'd never been good at reading between the lines. He either read too much into things or didn't read enough.

House was still musing over this when he saw Sarah coming down the hall toward his office. To his surprise, Cuddy was with her. Cuddy's face was flushed and she had a hand at her neck, covering the new necklace she was wearing. House got up and made his way to his office, ready to chase Cuddy away from Sarah if necessary. He was glad to see that Sarah was the only one in his office.

"What did Cuddy want?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. She followed me up from the lobby, talking about holiday plans. She said there's a party here tomorrow night and wanted to know if we'd be coming."

"I never attend that thing," he said. He did not want Sarah to spend Christmas Eve at this hospital. Who knew what stories she'd hear once the eggnog got spiked.

"If you want to go…"

"I don't," he snapped. He saw Sarah's eyes grow wide and he wanted to kick himself. "I'm looking forward to spending the evening with you." He softened his tone and was pleased to see a flush spread across Sarah's face.

"So am I," she said.

"Let's get out of here." House got down his coat and she helped him get into it. He collected his back-pack and they made their way out of the hospital. He was relieved when they reached her car without encountering Wilson.

* * *

Thirteen finished brushing her teeth and moved through her loft, turning off lights. It was late and she was tired. She wouldn't have thought a day of charting could be more tiring than a day of clinic duty, but she felt completely wiped out.

She turned off the last lamp in her living room area and was stepping up to the platform where her bed was when she heard the knock on her door. She looked at the clock. It was after 10:30. She stomped to the door, pulling it open.

"Eric…" Her words froze on her lips. It wasn't Foreman at her door; it was Chase.

**The review button's right there - you know you want to hit it and feed my addiction! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I still don't own House, just the woman and her dog. Once again, thank you for the alert sign-ups, favorites, and reviews. They are a great boost! A HUGE thanks go out to my beta, Brighid45. Make sure you check out her stories: "Treatment," "Thursday's Child," "Shelter from the Storm," and the latest in the series, "January Thaw."  
**

_The room smelled. It reminded her of dissecting animals in biology class. There was a table in front of her; something was lying on it, draped in a white sheet. With reluctance she moved forward. She didn't want to see what was under that sheet, but her legs seemed to have a will of their own. She kept going toward the table, reached it. Her heart was pounding. _

_ "No," she whispered. "I am not going to do this. I'm not." She gasped as she heard a low chuckle behind her. She knew that laugh. A second later he was at her side, grinning at her._

_ "Hello, Sarah," Todd said. "Don't you want to take a look at our work?" He reached forward and whipped the sheet off the table. Greg lay there, nearly as pale as the sheet, his body covered in bruises. His lips were blue and his eyes were closed. Todd chuckled again and Sarah started to scream._

The screaming woke her. It took her a second to realize that she was in her own bed. The sheets were twisted around her and her throat was raw. Her alarm clock glowed on the bedside table; it was 2:30 am.

"It was a dream," she said to herself. "Just a dream." She shut her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath. The image of Greg lying still and dead on the table came back to her. She scrambled out of the bed, racing to the bathroom, and made it just in time.

* * *

House woke up early. His first thought was that today was Christmas Eve, and he was going to spend the evening with Sarah. He smiled at the thought. Holidays had never been something he looked forward to but he was excited about this one.

As much as he was anticipating spending time with Sarah, he needed to put in a few hours at the hospital first. The dreaded charting was almost finished. Once it was completed, Cuddy would have no reason to nag him as he didn't have clinic duty for another three weeks. With a groan, House got himself out of bed.

Wilson was picking him up today since Sarah had the day off from work, but going to her apartment each morning had already become a habit. He knocked on the door before he thought about what he was doing. Once he realized his error, he hoped that she hadn't decided to sleep in this morning.

The door opened and Sarah stood there. For a second she just stared at him. Her face was pale and there were dark shadows under her eyes. He was about to ask her what was wrong when she stepped forward and put her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He could feel her shaking and he put his good arm around her, holding her as tightly as he could. Once again he cursed the sling, both for being in the way and for limiting him to only one arm to wrap around Sarah.

After a moment her grip loosened, but he kept his arm where it was. She was still trembling.

"Sorry," she said. Her face was no longer pressed into his chest but she didn't look up at him. When she started to step back he tightened his arm around her. He _hated _the sling. He wanted to catch her chin and tilt her head up but that would mean letting go of her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I… can we go inside, please?"

"Ok." He reluctantly let her go and followed her into the apartment. Maggie was on the couch, a blanket draped around her. She looked up and wagged her tail at him but didn't move to greet him. _The dog looks worried_, he thought. _How does a dog manage to look worried?_

Sarah moved toward the couch and he followed her, taking a seat beside her when she sat down. She still didn't look at him, studying her hands in her lap instead. After a moment he reached over to take one of her hands.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"I… I had a dream and you were dead and I just… it's stupid but I was just so relieved to see you this morning." She looked up at him at last and he could see a flush on her cheeks. He let go of her hand and moved closer to her on the couch, putting his arm around her. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you were scared," he said after a moment, "but I did enjoy the greeting." Sarah made a sound, somewhere between a sob and a chuckle and he tightened his arm. The next sound was definitely a chuckle and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, I should throw my arms around you every morning?" Sarah asked. She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him.

"I could get used to it," he replied and she smiled. He studied her face, noting again the shadows under her eyes. She looked exhausted. "I'm going to call Wilson. I'll stay here with you today."

"I'm fine now," she protested. "Go on to work and I'll see you this evening."

* * *

Sarah had stayed in her bathroom, sitting on the floor and fighting to stay awake. She couldn't get the image of Greg's battered body out of her head and she feared that the dream would return as soon as she went back to sleep. After half-an-hour Maggie had joined her there, pushing her way into Sarah's lap. A half-hour after that, Sarah got up and moved to her couch.

She'd sat there flipping through the television channels in search of anything that might distract her. She moved past infomercials, ads for male enhancement remedies, and bad movies. The dog curled up beside her and she put a blanket around her.

The dream had felt so real and she couldn't seem to shake the feeling of horror. When she heard the knock on her door shortly after 6:30, she'd rushed to answer it, wanting to see Greg alive and well. He'd stood there, his expression changing from apologetic to concerned and she'd thrown herself at him, clinging to him, reassuring herself that he was really there.

He put an arm around her and she breathed in his scent. After a moment she started to feel foolish and tried to pull back, but he hadn't let her go.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I… can we go inside, please?" Sarah didn't want to start bawling in the hall.

"Ok." He'd let go of her then and followed her to the couch. She'd sat there, staring at her hands, unsure of how to explain her behavior. Greg gave her a moment and then reached over to take one of her hands in his.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle and full of concern.

"I… I had a dream and you were dead and I just… it's stupid but I was just so relieved to see you this morning." She could feel her face growing warmer by the second but when she looked up at him, he wasn't laughing. He let go of her hand, moving closer to her and putting his arm around her. She leaned into him, resting her cheek on his shoulder, glad to be able to hide her face again. He didn't speak for a minute, just holding her.

"I'm sorry you were scared, but I did enjoy the greeting," he said. Sarah tried to bite back a chuckle and she felt Greg go still. She chuckled again and felt him relax.

"So, I should throw my arms around you every morning?" She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at his face. He was smiling but he was also studying her.

"I could get used to it," he said and she smiled back. "I'm going to call Wilson. I'll stay here with you today."

"I'm fine now," Sarah protested. "Go on to work and I'll see you this evening." She still felt foolish for reacting so strongly to a dream, and she didn't want Greg to have any trouble with Dr. Cuddy.

"I don't have a case…"

"Greg, I'm fine. Really." He was still studying her, his face thoughtful.

"You'll call me if you need anything?" he asked.

"I promise," she said.

"Ok." He nodded once, keeping his eyes on her face.

* * *

Thirteen woke up. The sound of snoring was coming from the direction of her couch. She sat up in her bed, staring in bewilderment in that direction, until she remembered the events of the previous evening.

She'd been about to get into bed when there was a knock on her door. She'd gone to answer it, expecting to find Foreman on the other side and prepared to tell him off. He'd stopped by a couple of times since she'd returned to House's team, though never as late at night as this. She'd been stunned to find Chase in the hallway.

For a minute she just stared at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. His shirt was half un-tucked, the top two buttons undone, and his tie was askew. She could smell the alcohol on him but he was steady on his feet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I… can't go home." He held out a crumpled set of papers and Thirteen took them with a sigh, stepping back reluctantly to let him in. He came in, stumbling a little, and went straight to her couch. She shook her head and took a look at the papers, her eyes widening as she read them.

"Cameron's divorcing you?"

"The process server was waiting for me in the lobby this evening," Chase said. Thirteen moved over to the couch, dropping down beside him. He had his face in his hands. She put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sor…" She didn't get to finish. Chase turned suddenly, catching her face in his hands and pressing his mouth to hers. Her lips had been parted for speech and he took advantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth. For a second she let herself respond, her tongue tangling with his and her arms going around him, one hand clenching in his hair. The next second, she let go and pushed him away.

"Thirteen… Remy," he gasped, reaching toward her again. She pushed his hands away.

"This is wrong," she said. She moved back from him as he reached toward her again. "No!" He stopped, a huge range of emotions crossing his face – lust, disappointment, anger and hurt. Then he closed down, his face showing nothing, and in that instant he reminded her of House.

"Ok," he said. He stood up and she got to her feet as well.

"Chase…"

"I'll go."

"Chase, I… it's just… this is too fast, too soon."

"You didn't used to worry about going too fast," he retorted and she flinched.

"Those days are behind me," she said. How could she explain this to him without pushing him away? She didn't want him to run away, not now. She put a hand out to him. "Please, sit back down." She breathed a sigh of relief when he complied, and settled in beside him.

He just sat there, his hands in his lap, saying nothing. Thirteen was unsure what to say. He was self-destructing; she recognized the process. She also knew how ineffectual people's efforts to intervene, to save her from herself, had been. It had taken a desperate man holding her hostage to make her wake up and realize how important her life was to her. She really hoped it wasn't going to come to that for Chase.

"I don't want to go home," Chase said at last.

"I'll get you a blanket and a pillow." Thirteen got up, moving to the closet to find a spare blanket. She pulled one of the pillows off her bed and brought both things back to the couch. Chase took them without a word. She looked at him for a moment, waiting. When he still didn't speak, she returned to her bed and climbed in. It took her a long time to get to sleep.

* * *

House left Sarah reluctantly. He wanted to stay with her, despite her protestations that she was fine. He had a suspicion that this wasn't her first nightmare. Cuddy's words came back to him. S_he went through several traumatic events last week. She's not going to be able to just walk away from those with no repercussions._

"You're quiet this morning," Wilson said as they drove toward the hospital. "Something wrong with Sarah?"

House looked sharply at Wilson. "Why would you think that?" he demanded. _Did I miss something? _

"She just seemed… quiet this morning." Wilson sounded defensive.

"She had a nightmare, last night. It shook her up."

"Last night? You're… sleeping with her?"

House flinched at the question. "What? No!"

"You don't want to sleep with her?" Wilson sounded puzzled.

"I didn't say that," House protested. _How on earth did the conversation wind up here?_ "She told me about the dream this morning. I don't think it's the first one she's had."

Wilson nodded. "Well, that's understandable, after everything that happened with her ex."

"He wasn't her ex. He… never mind." He looked away, staring out the window. He wished Wilson had never started this conversation, or that there'd been some way to deflect it. They both fell silent.

"She should talk with someone," Wilson said finally.

"Probably," House said. He didn't turn away from the window and Wilson didn't press the issue. They finished the drive to the hospital in silence.

**There's the review button. Hit it and take care of the Pathetic Review Junkie here! Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Still don't own House. Still bummed by that fact 'cause it means I've gotta go back to my day job. Won't you cheer me up by sending in a review? Thanks again to Brighid45 for beta-ing this story for me.**

When Thirteen emerged from her bathroom, showered and dressed for the day, Chase was still snoring on her couch. She moved past him to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She took a seat at her table, facing in Chase's general direction, and waited to see if the aroma would wake him.

After a few minutes he stirred, finally lifting his head to look over the arm of the couch at her. There were marks on the side of his face where the pillow-case had been creased and his hair was going every which way. Thirteen fought back the impulse to go smooth it.

"Good morning," she said.

"Hmph." He threw off the blanket, sitting up slowly. His eyes fell on the papers, sitting on her coffee table. "What's good about it?" he growled, getting to his feet.

"Coffee's ready," Thirteen replied, keeping her tone matter-of-fact. She got up to get cups and was about to pour one for each of them when she heard the sound of ripping paper. She turned to see that Chase was tearing the divorce announcement into strips, letting them fall to the floor.

"She couldn't bring herself to cancel any of our wedding plans when I called it off. She's got her first husband's sperm on ice – couldn't bear to get rid of that either." He laughed bitterly. "This, though, this she wastes no time on."

"I'm sorry," Thirteen said. She knew the words were inadequate, but she didn't know what else to say to him.

"Yeah? Me too." He tore the last strip, dropped it to the floor and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. He started for the door.

"Chase…" she said, not sure what to say or do next. He stopped, his hand on the knob.

"What?" He snapped, not turning around.

"I… I'll see you later." His only answer was a snort before he opened the door and left, letting it shut behind him with a bang.

* * *

Sarah was feeling almost normal again after walking Maggie and taking a shower. She carried a cup of tea to her desk and turned on her laptop. She'd told Greg no gifts but she wanted to do _something_ for him.

An hour later she disconnected the flash drive from her computer and powered the machine down. She'd selected the songs from Big Bad Voodoo Daddy that Greg seemed to like best, along with songs from other artists that she thought he might enjoy. She put the drive into a small box and got a roll of wrapping paper out of the closet.

A short time later she put the finished present on the table with her little tree, feeling a surge of trepidation. "I've made him a mix tape," she said out loud. "A higher tech version, but a mix tape all the same. How lame is that?" She looked over at Maggie, lying on the couch, but the dog just wagged her tail. "I haven't made a mix tape since middle school. It's like I'm 12 all over again." She reached out to retrieve the gift but a knock on her door interrupted her.

A UPS man was outside, holding a large box. "Careful, it's heavy," he warned as Sarah took it from him. She staggered a little.

"Thanks," she said.

"Merry Christmas," the man said.

"Merry Christmas." She moved back into the apartment, closing the door with her foot. There was no way she could safely step over the baby gate with the box in her arms, so she set it down and moved the gate aside. Maggie ran forward to sniff every inch, her tail wagging. Sarah pushed her aside long enough to read the address label. It was from her mother.

"I think she's shipped us rocks, Maggie." Sarah hoisted the box with a grunt. She took it to her desk and put it down, careful not to crush her laptop.

She had to get scissors out to get through the layers of packing tape her mother had used. When she finally got it open, she found it was full of Christmas presents. One large package addressed to her seemed to be the source of all the weight. Fortunately her mother had used large amounts of wadded paper to keep things from shifting too much.

The last gift Sarah pulled out was addressed to "Greg the Neighbor." Sarah looked at it apprehensively. What could her mother have sent? She knew next to nothing about Greg. Sarah was tempted to tear open the gift right then, but she put it down on her desk instead. She arranged all the gifts on her desk, handling the two addressed to Maggie with care just in case they contained something that made noise.

* * *

Wilson dropped House off at the hospital entrance. House was glad to escape the tension in the car and also to evade any further conversation. He went straight to the elevators and was about to push the button for a car when he heard the click of heels on the lobby floor behind him and let out a sigh.

"House." He turned to see Cuddy standing behind him. Today she'd paired another low-cut sweater with slacks. The diamond necklace sparkled on its chain.

"Cuddy. Let me guess – time for my weekly drug test?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Cuddy said with a small smile.

"Merry Christmas to me," House muttered, pushing the button to summon the elevator.

"You are due for x-rays, to check on how your collarbone and ribs are healing, but that's not why I came over here." The elevator chimed, signaling that a car had arrived.

"What do you really want?" House asked, sticking his cane out to hold open the elevator doors.

Cuddy sighed. "I just wanted to remind you that the Christmas party is tonight."

"Like I could forget," House said, with a pointed glance at the decorated lobby. He stepped into the elevator.

"I hope you and Sarah can come," Cuddy said. House didn't reply, hitting the Door Close button instead.

When he got to the diagnostics' conference room, he saw Thirteen was already there, sorting through the remaining charts. He could smell the coffee brewing out in the hallway. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. Thirteen looked up, her face anxious. When she saw it was him, she looked disappointed.

"Waiting for someone?" House asked, switching directions. He moved to the table rather than going to his office. Thirteen was tense, her movements jerky as she sorted through the charts.

"Cameron filed for divorce," she said. "Chase was served the papers last night."

"Where is he now?" House asked. He hadn't expected Cameron to move so quickly and could only imagine how stunned Chase was.

"I don't know where he is," Thirteen said.

"Find out," House demanded, feeling a little sick. _The last time I didn't know where one of my fellows was, it was Kutner._ He pushed the thought away.

"Ok," Thirteen said. She moved to the desk in the corner, lifting the phone there. House's hand hurt and he realized that it was clenched around his cane. He moved his back-pack off the chair and sat down. He could hear Thirteen dialing the phone behind him.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Chase walking into the conference room. His hair was clean, he'd shaved, and his clothes were neat. House stared at him, noting that his wedding ring was gone. It was the only sign that anything had happened.

* * *

Thirteen felt herself getting more and more tense. After Chase had left, she'd finished getting ready and headed to the hospital. She hoped to find him there, but he wasn't in the locker room or the lounge. She'd gone up to the diagnostics office but the conference room was still dark. She'd turned on the lights, started the coffee, and turned to the charts awaiting completion.

She'd been sorting through the charts when she heard the conference room door open and she'd looked up, hoping to see Chase there, but it was House who was entering the room. She told him about the divorce papers, and he'd immediately asked where Chase was. When she told him she didn't know, he'd gone pale. His knuckles had been white as he gripped his cane and she'd been afraid he was going to be sick. She'd gone to the phone at the desk, feeling relieved when House sat down in the chair at the end of the table.

She'd just dialed Wilson's extension when the conference room door opened and Chase walked in. His hair was clean, his clothes neat, and he'd shaved. It was as if nothing had happened. She hung up the phone, feeling weak with relief. A glance at House showed him sagging a bit in the chair.

"Good morning," Chase said, his tone pleasant and casual. He started toward the coffee pot and then became aware of the two of them staring at him. "Have I grown a second head or something?" he asked, looking from her to House.

"You're here before 8 am," House said. "We're stunned." He was trying to sound snarky but not quite managing it. He got slowly to his feet and turned toward his office. Thirteen could see that his face was still pale. She turned to follow him, taking one last look back at Chase, who was getting himself coffee.

House was struggling out of his coat and Thirteen stepped up to help him. He didn't protest. His shoulders were slumped and he looked tired.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Need to have some x-rays taken," he said.

"Do we have a case?"

"They're for me."

"Ok. You want to go now?"

"Might as well get it over with."

* * *

Sarah had to sneak the box from her mother out of the apartment. Maggie had kept going to it, sniffing it and even sticking her head inside. Sarah knew she was looking for her mother's dogs; they did the same thing whenever she sent a package.

She was returning from the basement where she'd left the box for recycling when she ran into one of her neighbors. She stepped from the elevator and nearly collided with the chubby, elderly woman. Sarah took one look at Mrs. Whipple's flushed face and sparkling eyes and knew she was going to be told a secret about one of their neighbors. She'd met the woman in the laundry room a few times and been forced to listen to a lot of gossip about everyone in the building.

"Oh! Hello, Sarah."

"Hi, Mrs. Whipple. Are you ready for Christmas?"

"Christmas? Oh, yes. Yes. My son, Michael – the one who's a lawyer – is going to pick me up this evening. I'm spending the night with his family. What about you, dear?"

"I'm staying here. A … friend is coming over for the evening."

Mrs. Whipple pursed her lips in disapproval. "That rude man from apartment B? You should be careful with that one. He's had the police here before you know."

"Have a merry Christmas, Mrs. Whipple," Sarah said. She saw no point in continuing this discussion and started to move on but the older woman put a hand on her arm.

"Sarah, do be careful. That man is going to get you into trouble. Someone was just here, asking all sorts of questions."

"Asking questions about Greg?"

Her neighbor's eyes brightened with excitement. "No dear . . . about _you_."

* * *

House hurt. His arm, ribs, and leg all ached. He'd quickly abandoned the conference room, moving to his desk chair instead. He was facing his computer, his email open on the screen, while he waited for his team to bring him charts to sign. An astute observer would see that he'd been sitting on the same message for at least 10 minutes; he hadn't read a word on the screen.

The x-rays had shown that his broken bones were on the mend. He'd been doing his physical therapy like he was supposed to, increasing his calcium intake, and was sticking to his pain medication dosing schedule. Everyone had been pleased with his progress and it appeared that he'd be able to get out of the sling in another two weeks, though the orthopedics doctor hadn't wanted to commit to that.

House knew the pain he was experiencing came from his earlier tension. He couldn't explain why not knowing where Chase was had filled him with such panic. His thoughts had immediately turned to Kutner, which was ridiculous. _If Chase was going to kill himself he would've done it already_, House told himself. _Cameron's been gone over a month. He had to see this coming, even if I didn't._

Chase's appearance and behavior made House feel even more foolish. The man was more put-together than he had been in weeks. He was dressed with the same care he'd taken before Dibala's death and he'd quickly organized the charting process for the day. At this rate, they would finish well before 5pm, when the Christmas party started.

"House?" Thirteen's voice startled him and he jumped in the chair, causing a fresh flare of pain. He swiveled to find her in the doorway between his office and the conference room, a stack of charts in her hand.

"What?" he snarled.

"These are ready for your signature." Thirteen put the charts down in front of him. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"How many more to go?" he asked, ignoring her apology.

* * *

Thirteen noticed that Chase's wedding ring was missing when she returned from taking House to get his x-rays. She stared at the bare spot on his finger for a few seconds; when she looked up at him, he was glaring at her. She flushed and turned back to the chart she was working on.

Chase was in a particularly nasty, sarcastic mood. He reminded Thirteen of House on his worst days, before Mayfield. That was the only sign, other than the missing ring, that anything had changed. His attitude dominated the room; not even Foreman seemed capable of standing up to him. They wound up working in silence.

House was in his office, seated in front of his computer. Thirteen glanced over from time to time. He had his email program up but he didn't seem to be moving through the messages. To judge from the tension around his eyes when they returned from x-ray, he was hurting.

She carted a stack of completed charts in to him a few hours after lunch. He was still staring at the computer screen and he jumped when she spoke to him.

"What?" he growled.

"These are ready for your signature." She put the charts down on his desk and moved to sit across from him. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"How many more to go?" he asked, not looking up as he scrawled his name on each one.

"We'll be done in less than an hour," Thirteen said, glancing at his wall clock. It was just after 3pm. "Do you need a ride home this evening?"

"I thought you were attending the party."

"I can always come back after dropping you off. I may just skip it." House signed the last chart and shoved the stack toward her. She rose to collect them.

"I'll find my own way home," he said.

* * *

Once Sarah had recovered from her shock at Mrs. Whipple's revelation, she started asking questions. Her neighbor was happy to describe the man asking the questions and even shared some of what he had asked her. By the time she'd finished, Sarah was furious. She excused herself as politely as she could and made her way to her apartment.

Once there, Sarah paced in growing agitation. The man Mrs. Whipple had described was Lucas Douglas. She had been prepared to dismiss her encounter with him at the grocery story as a coincidence but this was too much. She was ready to storm into the hospital and give Lisa Cuddy a piece of her mind.

Her cell phone started ringing somewhere in the depths of her purse. Sarah smiled when she saw Greg's name in the caller id.

"Hi," she said.

"Could you… come and get me, please?" Greg sounded subdued. Sarah tamped down her aggravation with Dr. Cuddy; it could wait.

"I'll be right there," she said.

"Ok." He hung up. Sarah stared at the phone for a second. _What's happened?_ she wondered.

When Sarah got to the hospital, she pulled into Greg's parking place and headed into the building. She was glad not to meet up with Dr. Cuddy on her way to the elevators. Even though her first priority was now reaching Greg, she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold her temper in check if she came face-to-face with the dean.

It was quiet up on the 4th floor and few people were around. Sarah made her way quickly to Greg's office, noting that the conference room lights were out. His office was darkened as well but she could see him in the glow from his computer's monitor, as he was sitting in front of it.

"Greg?" She spoke softly as she entered his office, not wanting to startle him. He didn't move and she thought he hadn't heard her. She was about to speak again when he suddenly turned the chair. He got up quickly and came toward her in a rush. Sarah put her arms out and wrapped them around him as he reached her, pulling him into a hug. He put his free arm around her, snaking it into her coat and bringing her in close. His head came down to rest on top of hers and he clung tightly to her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Insert boring disclaimer here (you already know it). Here's something more interesting: SMUT ALERT! SMUT ALERT! Now, please be kind. Up till now I have been a smut-_writing_ virgin. A HUGE thanks to Brighid45 for her help in getting this chapter whipped into shape (oh dear - that sounds kinky, doesn't it). I am working on chapter 8 but it keeps stalling on me. How about a wave of reviews to spur me on?**

House had signed the last of the charts finally and told the team to go start the party downstairs. They'd shut down the conference room in record time. He'd stayed where he was, sitting in front of his computer. Once they were all gone, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sarah's number. He wanted to go home, but more than that, he wanted to see her. She'd said she'd come right away and he'd been surprised at the rush of relief the knowledge brought. He turned the lights out in his office and settled back in his chair to wait. He thought of Kutner again, of what might have happened with Chase this morning, and found that for some weird reason his face was wet.

Sarah came sooner than he'd expected and he took a minute before he turned to greet her, trying to regain his composure. _What am I doing? _he asked himself. _Kutner was an idiot. Suck it up!_ He shuddered at the last thought; it was as if he could hear his father speaking in that cold, stern tone he'd always hated and feared.

After he turned around he got up and went straight to Sarah, not trusting himself to hold it together. She put her arms around him and he clung to her, wishing for the umpteenth time that the sling wasn't in the way.

He snaked his free arm into her coat and encountered the softness of her sweater, an unexpected pleasure. He moved his hand up her back and lifted his head from the top of hers; he smelled the fragrance of her shampoo, some light floral scent, and her own clean musk. It was a potent combination. She looked up at him and he lowered his head to capture her mouth with his.

His tongue plunged into her mouth as he moved his hand up to the back of her head. He twined his fingers in her silky locks, enjoying the feel of the soft strands as they clung to his skin. Her arms tightened around him, one hand on his back while the other crept to the nape of his neck as the kiss deepened.

Lightheadedness from lack of air ended things at last. When they parted, he kept his gentle hold on her hair as he rested his forehead against hers. She didn't let go as they both struggled to catch their breath. When he opened his eyes again she was gazing up at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, her soft lips parted. He was about to steal another kiss when movement in the hall caught his eye and he became acutely aware of the glass walls of his office.

"We should go home," he said, relaxing his grip and moving back a little. She stared at him uncertainly for a second before nodding.

"Ok," she said, and let go of him slowly. Her reluctance gave him an immense satisfaction that surprised and unsettled him, but he said nothing, only collected his backpack. She helped him into his coat, her touch gentle and supportive. They walked out of the office in silence, passing no one on their way to the elevator.

The lobby was crowded with hospital employees. Anyone who could sneak away early had already gathered there. They stood in clusters, chatting and sipping eggnog. House knew that things would get louder later as more people came in. Once Cuddy departed someone would spike the eggnog, and more alcohol would be served in the lounge. He wondered which of his co-workers would wind up making out in the clinic this year.

As they crossed the lobby, House did his best to avoid making eye contact with anyone there. He just wanted to leave. He glanced up once and saw Wilson stood on the 2nd floor balcony, watching him. His steps slowed as their eyes met.

"You ok?" Sarah asked from her place beside him. House quickly looked away.

"Fine," he said, his voice harsh. He winced and softened the tone. " Let's get out of here."

* * *

Two nurses from oncology had brought in blenders and were serving up red and green margaritas in the doctor's lounge. So far Thirteen had polished off a healthy glassful of both colors and was working her way through a second helping of the red. She was feeling pretty good. All the furniture had been pushed to the side of the room and someone had brought in a portable stereo. Christmas carols were playing in the lobby but in here, dance music was blaring. A few people were bouncing around in the center of the room.

She was standing near the door, hoping to catch a breath of cool air from the lobby as people came in and out of the lounge, swinging her hips to the music's beat and sipping her drink when she felt someone come up behind her. Hands came to rest on her hips, sending an electric thrill through her. She turned her head and was stunned to see it was Chase. He moved closer, leaning in.

"Come with me." The intimate gesture and his breathy whisper moving across her ear made her shiver. He lifted his hand from one of her hips to pull her along with him across the lobby and into the darkened clinic, leaving her drink abandoned on the desk. He led her into one of the exam rooms. The second the door closed behind her he pushed her up against it. His lips were on hers; his hands seemed to be everywhere at once, his grasp hot and sweaty as he pressed his mouth to her neck. He'd already managed to unhook her bra and her knees turned to water when one hand cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple. He released her neck long enough to yank her sweater over her head. Her bra followed and then he was tracing kisses down her collar-bone.

Some small part of her brain that was still rational thought she should stop him. There were very good reasons to do so. He'd been a jerk to her all day; even more important, he'd just been served with divorce papers from his wife. He was a mess, no matter how well he'd cleaned up his appearance. The last traces of logical thought fled, however, when he moved his thumb and captured her nipple between his teeth.

"Chase," she gasped, one hand twisted in his hair while the other clutched the back of his neck. He slowly let go of her breast, moving so that his eyes were level with hers. She could just make out his face in the dim room but couldn't read his expression.

"This isn't too fast for you?" he asked, his voice low and a little hoarse. She shook her head. It might be a mistake, but she didn't want him to stop. She guided his hand back to her breast and closed her eyes, anticipating his next move.

"Guess it's my turn."

It took her addled mind a moment to recognize that the snark from earlier in the day was back in his voice. "What?" she asked. Trepidation sent a sudden chill up her spine. She felt confused. What was he saying? Why had he stopped?

Chase chuckled, but there was no humor in the soft sound. "Come on, you know--to be your Christmas Eve hook-up. The first year it was Joshua, that nurse in Pedes. Last year it was Foreman. This year…"

She shoved him away as hard as she could, hurt welling up like blood from a deep incision. "You—you asshole!" She turned her back on him, fumbling for her bra and sweater in the dim lighting. After a moment Chase moved past her, found the door and left it open as he walked out, his stride casual and unhurried. She slammed it shut behind him and sank to the floor. She had never felt so humiliated in her life. Without warning tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks unnoticed as she folded in on herself, sick with pain and fury.

* * *

Sarah stole glances at Greg as she drove them to Baker Street. He was silent, gazing out the passenger window. If she hadn't seen the redness around his eyes she would have believed she'd imagined the shakiness in his voice when he'd called. She remembered the way he'd clung to her, the intensity of the kiss, and felt her cheeks burn a little. _Something_ had happened, he just wasn't ready to share it yet. Greg opened up the most when she let him set the pace. As hard as it was, she was going to have to wait for him to be ready.

When they got into the apartment, Greg entered the room and came to a stop, staring at the presents sitting on Sarah's desk.

"My mother sent them," Sarah told him, helping him out of his coat. "There's something for you too."

"She sent _me_ a gift?" Greg had started to turn toward the couch but now he looked at her in obvious surprise.

"It isn't ticking and there are no visible wires, so I'm pretty sure it's not a bomb," Sarah said, her tone wry. Greg moved to her desk, scanning the presents until he found the one addressed to him. He looked at it but made no move to touch it. Finally he turned away, headed for the couch. The moment he sat down, Maggie leaped up beside him and he reached over to pet her. Sarah took a seat beside them. She picked up Maggie and put the dog in her lap, sliding over right next to Greg. He looked at her as she put her arm around his waist. After a moment he reciprocated and slipped his arm about her shoulders.

"What do you think your mother sent?" he asked after a minute.

"I have no idea. She didn't tell me she was sending anything. I really should call her and tell her that the package arrived." Greg's arm tightened around her.

"Can that wait a minute?" he asked. Sarah smiled at the tentative tone in his voice.

"I think so." She reached up to turn his face toward hers, and he moved the rest of the way to meet her lips with his.

This kiss was less urgent than the one in his office. Greg's hand slid up and down her back while she threaded her fingers through his hair. They broke apart before either of them was breathless. Greg leaned his forehead against hers. She eased her hand from his hair to caress his cheek. They stayed that way for a moment before Greg kissed her again. She melted into his embrace, hardly noticing when Maggie jumped down from her lap.

* * *

Eventually Thirteen found she had calmed down enough to consider what had just happened with Chase. What was going on with him? Last night he had seemed shattered. Today he had been bitter and vindictive, until he approached her in the lounge. He hadn't seemed lost or angry then, and when they'd first reached the exam room he had certainly seemed to know what he wanted. Just thinking about his touch was enough to make her shudder. Whether it was from excitement or disgust she couldn't decide.

After a while she put her bra and sweater on, smoothing the wrinkles out as best she could, then went to the exam room's sink to splash some water on her face. _Ok, Remy,_ she told herself, _time to pull it together and get back out there._ Not only had Chase left her feeling shaken, he'd also reminded her how long she'd been without anyone.

_Enough!_ she thought. _I've been doing everything I'm supposed to do for over a year now – no heavy drinking or wild partying. _Except at Chase's bachelor party_,_ a little voice at the back of her head taunted. She pushed the memory away. _Tonight I'm not going to worry about it._ She smoothed her hair and stalked out of the room, retrieved her melting margarita from the clinic desk and headed back to the party. She was determined to have a good time and show Robert Chase that he hadn't bothered her a bit.

* * *

The pile of presents had immediately caught House's attention when he entered Sarah's apartment. He'd been stunned when she told him that her mother had sent one to him as well. _Why would she send something to me? _he thought._ She doesn't even know me_. The gifts immediately reminded him of Kutner and the stupid "Secret Santa" prank he'd pulled on his fellows two years ago. Despite knowing that the whole thing was a set-up, Kutner had brought him a gift. House still had the watch, sitting in its box in the top drawer of his dresser. He couldn't stand the thought of wearing it now, but he also didn't want to part with it.

Sarah had come to sit beside him on the couch, putting an arm around him and turning his face toward hers for a kiss. He'd kissed her and then kissed her again. He didn't want to think about Kutner; it was Christmas Eve and he wanted to enjoy Sarah's family tradition with her. He kissed her a third time, losing himself in the feel of her and pushing away the last of his sorrow.

When they finally came up for air, Sarah broke out the food. They filled plates and returned to the living room. House stood guard against Maggie while Sarah moved to her shelves of dvds to get a movie for them to watch. She chose one and turned to him with a grin.

"How about _Scrooged_?" she asked.

"Never seen it," House replied, squinting at the cover. He thought he recognized Bill Murray.

"I try to watch it every year. It's a modern retelling of _A Christmas Carol_. Carol Kane is the _best_ Ghost of Christmas Present ever. It's a lot of fun."

"Ok." Sarah put the movie in and rejoined him on the couch. They settled back, munching on goodies and exchanging the occasional comment. Before long they were both laughing at the movie. When they'd finished eating, Sarah took the plates to the kitchen and returned to the couch. She slipped her arm around his waist and he put his arm around her shoulders. They sat together like that for the rest of the film.

When the credits started scrolling across the screen, Greg glanced over to Sarah's desk.

"Are you going to open your presents tonight, or wait until tomorrow?" he asked.

"We always open them on Christmas Eve in my family," Sarah said. "It got started when we were kids. We did the gifts from family on Christmas Eve. In the morning we'd find toys under the tree from 'Santa.'" She got up from the couch and walked over to the little pile of packages. Maggie followed, her tail wagging, and Sarah put a gift down on the floor. The dog immediately pounced on it, using her front feet and her teeth to remove the wrapping paper. House sat up a little straighter to watch, amused. Sarah lifted another parcel from the desk and carried it over to him.

"Let's see what my mother sent you," she said. He took the present cautiously. Sarah chuckled at his wariness. "I told you – it's probably not a bomb." She moved back to the desk to retrieve a gift of her own, giving him space to open his.

The papers parted to reveal soft cloth. House pulled it out and realized it was a hat, with an incredibly long tail. He stared at it, puzzled, before looking up to see Sarah smiling at him.

"It's a toboggan hat," she said. "You wrap that long tail around your neck like a scarf. She made all of us hats like that a few years ago."

House looked the thing over. The soft knit fabric was patterned in bold colors. He started to fold it back up and felt the crinkle of paper under his fingertips. He reached inside and pulled out what appeared to be a note. A glance at Sarah found her opening a package of her own. He quickly unfolded the paper and read the single sentence written in a neat, firm hand. _Thank you for taking care of my grand-puppy and my daughter._ He stared at the words for a second before stuffing the paper into his pocket.

"It's… unique," he said, looking back to Sarah. She was putting down another gift for Maggie.

"I . . . I have something for you too," she said, looking nervous. She retrieved a small package from beneath her tree and carried it over to him. "It's nothing much. I just… wanted to get you something." She handed it to him and retreated to the desk as he opened the package. Inside was a flash drive. He looked up at Sarah to find she was blushing.

"It's music," she said. "Some of the songs from Big Bad Voodoo Daddy that you seemed to like best, and some other stuff I thought you might like."

"Thank you," he said. His feelings were confused. He was pleased by the gift but sorry that he didn't have one to offer her.

* * *

Sarah had held her breath when she handed Greg her gift. He'd pulled out the flash drive and looked up at her inquiringly. His blue eyes were very bright.

"It's music. Some of the songs from Big Bad Voodoo Daddy that you seemed to like best, and some other stuff I thought you might like."

The light in his gaze dimmed. "Thank you," Greg said, but he didn't look pleased. He looked… sad.

"What…" Sarah started toward him.

"I don't have anything for you," he said, his tone harsh. She knew him well enough now to understand he wasn't angry. He sounded full of regret.

"It's ok," Sarah answered, moving to sit beside him on the couch. He turned to look at her, the sadness mixed with caution and a little curiosity. "You're here, spending the evening with me." She reached out to pull him close.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: I do not own House; if I did I'd get to hang out with Hugh Laurie, and my husband would be far more jealous of my little HL crush. At long last the muses have cooperated and here is chapter 8. Hope you'll like it, and let me know what you think. Reviews feed the muses!**

Thirteen came awake slowly. She was lying face down in bed but she wasn't sure how she'd gotten there. There was a strip of terry-cloth on her tongue and she tried to spit it out a few times before realizing that it _was_ her tongue. With a grunt she turned over and that's when the jackhammers in her head started up. She let out a moan.

"You're awake," said a voice from somewhere nearby. Thirteen gasped in surprise and immediately regretted it. _What is Chase doing here? _She opened her eyes, wincing as light hit them, and confirmed that she was in her own bed. Chase came into view a second later, carrying a cup. The sweats he wore looked familiar. It took Thirteen a second to recognize that they were a pair Foreman had left behind in her apartment.

"Drink this," Chase said, holding out the cup to her. She started to sit and realized that she was naked from the waist up. She pulled the bedding around her. _What the hell happened last night?_

"What… what are you doing here?" she asked. He pushed the cup at her.

"Drink this. It'll help with the hangover." She took the cup and sniffed at the liquid inside.

"What is it?"

"It's a hangover cure," Chase said and she snorted. "Just drink it already." He dropped onto the side of the bed and she flinched away from him, which made her headache increase. With a grimace she downed the foul-tasting liquid from the cup.

"That is… disgusting," she said, handing the empty cup back to him. "You learn this in med school?"

"I used to make it for my mother." Chase rose from the bed and carried the cup to her kitchen. Thirteen looked around, trying to find her clothing. She really wanted to go to the bathroom. She spotted her sweater on the floor. As she moved across the bed, struggling to keep the sheet up around her chest. She heard Chase sigh.

"It's not like I didn't get a full view last night," he said. He stepped into her bathroom and emerged a second later with her robe, which he tossed toward the bed. Thirteen snatched it up.

"Turn around," she said. Chase rolled his eyes but complied. She slipped on the robe before hurrying off to pee.

* * *

After having so many nightmares, Sarah had been starting to dread going to sleep at night but on Christmas Eve she drifted off happily, replaying parts of her evening with Greg. She'd slept through the night with no nightmare interruptions and woke up feeling almost giddy.

For a few minutes she let herself just wallow, her thoughts going back to the previous evening. She hadn't wanted the kiss in Greg's office to end. She'd reveled in the feel of his hand in her hair and his beard against her face even as she'd drunk in his intoxicating scent. Just thinking about it made her sigh and smile as her cheeks grew warm.

Greg hadn't told her what left him so shaken at the hospital, but he'd seemed to put it behind him once they reached her apartment. Aside from a few nervous moments about gifts, he'd appeared to enjoy himself. She hoped he didn't find the hat her mother had sent too strange. She must have made it shortly after talking with Sarah on Tuesday. Sarah had only gotten a glimpse of it. The fabric's geometric pattern, done in bold shades of red and blue, was sure to make Greg stand out in a crowd. _Not that he needs any help doing that_, she thought with another smile. _Any woman who fails to notice those incredible eyes of his must be blind._

Sarah spent a few more minutes in happy contemplation of her neighbor before Maggie stirred and it was time to get out of bed and on with the day. She was just tidying up after her breakfast when her phone rang. Sarah felt a surge of dismay as she realized that she hadn't called her mother last night to tell her that the gifts arrived.

"Sarah?" Sure enough, it was her mother on the phone.

"Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to you too. Did you get the package I sent?"

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I got a little distracted."

"By Greg?" Her mother's tone was teasing. "I hope he didn't mind the hat."

"I think he was more surprised than anything."

"Well, I figured that anyone could use another warm hat in the winter."

* * *

The sun was already shining when House woke up. He hadn't slept in so late in a while, not since he first started car-pooling with Sarah. Thinking of her made him realize that it hadn't even been a month since he first met her. The realization startled him. It seemed as though it should be longer than that.

These days Sarah was the first person who came to mind in the mornings, and she was often his last thought at night. He used to wake up craving Vicodin and struggle with sleeplessness while remembering Amber. He tried to figure out when this change had taken place. He greatly preferred thinking of Sarah but it was a little disconcerting to realize how important she was to him.

His shifted on the bed, preparing to sit up, and was pleasantly surprised when there was no flare of pain from his shoulder and side. They ached but the pain was not nearly as bad as he'd anticipated, especially considering that he was late for his morning dose of medication.

He was just getting into clothes after his shower when the phone rang. He hobbled cane-less around the bed to answer it and found his mother on the line. He hadn't told her he'd returned to his apartment; she must've called Wilson and found out.

"Merry Christmas, Greg," she said.

"Hi, Mom," he answered, biting back a sigh. He should've known he couldn't get through a holiday without talking to her.

"James told me you moved out. Are you doing alright?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm fine." House knew that Wilson had told his mother something about Mayfield though he wasn't sure how much. He hadn't wanted to tell her anything; he was certain she would have chosen not to know that her only child was confined to a mental hospital. She'd always preferred ignorance to having to confront anything unpleasant.

"That's good, dear. Are you having a nice holiday? James said you'd made friends with one of your neighbors." House wondered if he could strangle Wilson one-handed. He gritted his teeth and braced himself for endless questions. There was no way he could completely evade the subject of Sarah now that Wilson had blabbed.

* * *

Thirteen studied her face in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were blood-shot and her skin pasty. She lifted lank hair to reveal a hickey on her neck and groaned. _When did __that__ happen?_ she asked herself. _When I was with Chase in the clinic, or some time later?_ She moved to sit on the edge of the bathtub and put her face in her hands, trying to remember the chain of events.

When she'd left the exam room in the clinic, she'd retrieved and quickly downed her half-melted margarita. She'd grabbed a green one as soon as she got into the doctor's lounge and polished it off. She remembered dancing in a group while sipping another drink. Dr. Beck, the pretty red-head from the ER, Joshua from Pedes, and Foreman were part of the group. She couldn't remember anything after that, but somehow she'd wound up in her own bed wearing nothing but her underwear . . . She jumped when a knock sounded close by.

"You ok in there?" Chase called. "Remy?"

She got up quickly, fighting a wave of dizziness, and threw open the door. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I brought you home last night. You don't remember?"

"I remember you being an asshole in the clinic." She pushed past him and stalked out into the loft. Chase watched her, his expression one of discomfort.

"You… you were drinking a lot when you got back. You wound up kissing Lily Beck, from the ER, and then Foreman moved in."

"I kissed Foreman?" Thirteen felt sick.

"You were making out with him in the lobby. He left to get your coats and I got you out of there."

"Why?" Thirteen demanded, feeling sicker.

Chase ducked his head, his face flushing. "I…I didn't want you to go home with someone else." The words came out in a rush. Thirteen didn't think she could have heard him right.

"What?" she demanded.

Chase looked up at her, his eyes sparkling. "I didn't want you to go home with someone else," he repeated, enunciating each word with care. Thirteen sank down on the edge of her bed, her mind reeling.

"You… you couldn't be my 'hook-up' so you didn't want anyone else to be either?"

"I didn't want you to do something you'd regret," Chase said.

"How the hell would you know what I'd regret?" Thirteen demanded.

"If you wanted to get back together with Foreman, you wouldn't have gone with me to the clinic."

"God, you… you sound like House."

"And I'm right, like House," Chase retorted.

"Get the hell out of here!" Thirteen said, getting to her feet again. Hurt and anger were welling up in her, causing her to shake and making her headache worse. Chase looked at her for a moment before starting toward her door. When he reached it he stopped, his hand on the knob.

"Nothing happened," he said quietly. "You passed out in the car and I brought you up here."

Thirteen wanted to roll her eyes but knew it would hurt too much. She settled for sarcasm instead. "And my clothes just fell off?"

"I took the pants and sweater off. Your bra… It's an underwire and Cameron told me once that they were uncomfortable to sleep in. I covered you up and slept on the couch. Nothing happened." He didn't wait for her to respond. He opened the door and left, closing it gently behind him. Thirteen sank back down on the edge of her bed, feeling dizzy and fighting back tears.

* * *

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Greg's knock on her door. She was still on the phone with her mother, who wanted to know more about her neighbor. Mom had been teasing her, knowing that Sarah would reveal more through her defensiveness than she would in response to straight questions. Sarah recognized the tactic, but that didn't mean she had a good defense against it.

"Mom, I've gotta go. There's someone at my door," Sarah said. Actually it was opening; Greg had apparently used his spare key. He hesitated when he saw she was on the phone but she waved him forward.

"Tell Greg merry Christmas for me," her mother said.

"Merry Christmas, Mom. I'll talk to you later," Sarah said, ending the call. She hung up and breathed out another sigh before turning to smile at Greg.

"Hi," he said, his tone hesitant.

"Hi," she answered, moving from the couch to meet him near the door. She moved up on tiptoe to brush his lips with hers. He responded by putting his arm around her and pulling in her close for a deeper kiss. They broke apart after a moment and Sarah was about to suggest that they move to the couch when she heard a faint knocking.

"Someone's at your door," she said. Greg frowned and stepped away from her reluctantly, obviously intent on finding out what was going on. Sarah shot a look back into the apartment but Maggie showed no inclination to move from where she was sitting on the couch. She glanced at Greg as he stuck his head out the door.

"Wilson?" he asked, and Sarah felt her heart sink. _What is __he __doing here?_ she wondered.

Wilson's answer came from the hallway. "Hey House. I've got the Chinese."

"Chinese? Oh. Yeah." Greg looked back to Sarah, his expression sheepish.

"A Christmas tradition?" she asked.

"Sort of," he said. He looked conflicted and Sarah felt bad for him. She didn't like Wilson but he and Greg had been friends for a long time. Greg shouldn't feel like he had to choose between them.

"Why don't you invite him in?" she suggested, trying to put aside her feelings for Greg's sake. He looked at her uncertainly for a second before he nodded once and turned back to his friend.

"Come on in, Wilson," he said, opening the door wider. Wilson walked in, carrying a large brown-paper bag. Sarah fixed a smile on her face, trying her best to look welcoming.

"Hi, James," she said.

"Hi, Sarah," he replied. He had a smile on his face too but it wasn't reaching his eyes. Sarah hoped she was doing a better job of hiding her feelings than he was. His gaze was resentful and it suddenly occurred to Sarah to wonder if he was involved in Lucas Douglas' spying. He shrugged out of his coat, shifting the bag from hand to hand as he did so. She collected the coat, saw Greg's face blanch for a moment and looked more closely at Wilson. He was clad in a grey McGill sweatshirt and jeans—nothing out of the ordinary; still something obviously wasn't right. She kept an eye on Greg as the three of them made their way into her kitchen.

* * *

House had knocked before letting himself in to Sarah's apartment. He'd found her on the phone and had been about to retreat when she ended the call. She seemed relieved by his interruption, coming across the room to lightly brush his lips with hers. He'd responded by pulling her close and kissing her. Her arms had come up around him as her lips parted, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

They'd broken apart after a minute but Sarah hadn't moved. She was still holding him close and smiling at him when they'd heard the knocking in the hallway.

"Someone's at your door," Sarah said, sounding disappointed. She'd let go of him slowly and he'd reluctantly headed off to check on things. Wilson was standing at the entrance to 221-B. He turned at the sound of Sarah's door opening, revealing that he carried a large brown-paper bag.

"Wilson?"

"Hey House. I've got the Chinese." Wilson lifted the bag.

"Chinese?" House responded. "Oh. Yeah." He'd completely forgotten his own holiday tradition of eating Chinese food and watching terrible movies with Wilson on Christmas day. He looked back to Sarah, trying to figure out what to do. He hadn't talked about plans with either of them.

"A Christmas tradition?" Sarah asked and House appreciated the way she quickly figured out what was going on.

"Sort of," he admitted. She studied him for a second and then seemed to come to a decision.

"Why don't you invite him in?" she suggested.

He almost asked her if she was sure. Instead he turned back to the open door. "Come on in, Wilson." He opened the door wider and moved back to let the younger man in. Sarah greeted him with a smile. A slight tightness about her eyes was the only hint that she wasn't sincerely pleased to see him.

"Hi, James," she said.

"Hi, Sarah," Wilson replied, shrugging out of his coat. As Sarah collected it House got his first look at what Wilson was wearing. He felt his stomach clench at the sight of the McGill sweatshirt; the last time he'd seen that article of clothing, Amber had been wearing it. He blew out a shaky breath. He could feel Sarah's eyes on him as they made their way into the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: I don't own House, etc. - I'm just borrowing them from David Shore (and he's very kindly not suing me, which I really appreciate). The muse was on fire yesterday, which is why I have this chapter for you, much sooner than I'd expected. Be kind to my poor, charred Muse and send along a few reviews. They're better than ointment for healing his wounds! Thanks as always to Brighid45, my indispensable beta!**

After Chase left, Thirteen took a shower. She was just sitting down to eat some toast when there was a knock on her door. She got up to answer it, unsure if she hoped it would be Chase on the other side or not. She certainly didn't expect it to be Foreman. She stifled a groan, remembering what Chase had said.

"Hi," Foreman said.

"Hi," she replied, not moving from her place in the doorway.

"Can I come in?"

Thirteen sighed and stepped back. "Ok." Foreman waited until she'd closed the door behind him before making his way to her table and taking a seat. She sighed again and returned to her own chair, picking up her toast.

"You disappeared on me last night," Foreman said.

"Uh-huh." Thirteen kept her eyes on her plate, tearing a corner of crust off the slice of half-burned bread and crumbling it.

"I was worried about you." She flicked her eyes up to look at Foreman. He was wearing what she'd come to regard as his annoyingly earnest expression.

"So, 14 hours later, you've decided to check on me."

"Remy…" He put his hand on one of hers and she jerked away from the touch. For a second she saw anger flash across his face but he quickly replaced it with his hurt puppy-dog look. "Last night…"

"You should forget about last night," she snapped.

"I can't do that," he protested. "Remy… you were all over me."

"I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing."

"You certainly seemed to know what you were doing."

She bit back a groan of exasperation. "Eric…"

"What happened to 'alcohol doesn't change people?'"

"I was drunk. I was horny. You were there. That's all it was." More anger flickered over his features, mingling with the hurt. For a second she thought she saw genuine emotion there, before he put on his righteously indignant expression.

"Fine," he said, getting to his feet. He stalked out of her apartment, shutting the door behind him with a bang. Thirteen blew out a shaky breath and got up to lock the door. She rested her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before going back to the table. She intended to force down her toast but discovered that she had crumbled the entire slice of bread while she was sitting with Foreman.

* * *

Sarah guided the two men to her kitchen, keeping an eye on Greg. She'd invited Wilson in so that Greg wouldn't feel like he had to choose between the two of them, but to judge from his tension, she'd made a mistake. Wilson put the bag of food down on the table and turned to look from Sarah to Greg, waiting for one of them to speak. After a few moments Sarah broke the awkward silence.

"So, is there more to this tradition than Chinese food?" she asked. Wilson smirked.

"We usually watch bad movies," Greg said.

"And by bad movies, he means…" Wilson began.

"Movies that went direct to video," Greg said quickly. His face was flushed. He shot a dirty look at Wilson and Wilson shrugged in response.

"If I'm in the way…" Sarah began, but Greg cut her off.

"You aren't."

"Of course not," Wilson said. "The more the merrier, right? And there's plenty of food. I always order too much." He smiled broadly but it still didn't reach his eyes.

"I'll get some plates," Sarah said, moving to the cabinets. "There are drinks in the fridge – help yourself." She took plates to the table while Wilson looked in her fridge. He pulled out three Cokes and put them on the table. Greg fished out his medicine and they all sat down to eat.

Wilson was right – he did order too much food. Even with the three of them eating, there were leftovers. Sarah offered to bag them up for him, but Wilson said he didn't want them. She tidied the kitchen while Greg took Wilson to the living room to browse through Sarah's movie collection.

When she reached the living room, Wilson was holding up a dvd case.

"What is _Murder My Sweet_?" he asked.

"It's an adaptation of a Raymond Chandler novel, film noir kind of stuff," Sarah said. "It's really well-done. Dick Powell is terrific as Phillip Marlowe."

"Dick Powell?" Wilson scoffed. "What about Bogart? _The Big Sleep_ is classic."

"It's overrated, in my opinion. The producer wanted to take advantage of all the hoopla surrounding Bogie and Bacall so he tried to force a love interest into the story that didn't belong there. Marlowe never really has love interests in the novels. He's too busy getting beat up by the bad guys."

"What about his secretary?"

Sarah managed a slight smile and hoped it didn't look condescending. "You're thinking of Sam Spade. Marlowe doesn't have a secretary."

"Huh," Wilson replied, setting the dvd back down on the shelf. He continued to browse. Greg suggested a few titles but nothing seemed to appeal to Wilson. Sarah was ready to strangle him. It couldn't be that difficult for him to find a movie in her collection that he could stand to watch. Sarah moved to the shelves, hoping to find some way to add some levity to the situation before she became too exasperated. She pulled out a dvd that the men hadn't looked at yet.

"How about a Christmas movie?" she said, holding it out to Wilson. He frowned.

"A Christmas movie? I don't…. wait, this is _Die Hard_."

"It's set at Christmas," Sarah said, her lips twitching. Wilson looked at her and laughed. Some of the tension between them seemed to ease. She glanced at Greg to see that he was smiling, though the tightness around his eyes showed that he hadn't relaxed entirely. Wilson handed her back the dvd and she moved to the player. When she turned, intending to sit on the couch, she discovered that Wilson was already there. He sat at one end while Greg was on the other, Maggie squeezed between his left thigh and the couch's arm. Sarah could either sit in between the two men or take one of the wing-back chairs. She moved to the wing-back closest to Greg and settled there, trying to shake the feeling of being excluded.

* * *

House struggled to contain an increasing sense of irritation. First Wilson took forever to pick a movie, rejecting every one of his suggestions. Now he was sitting on the end of the couch, which meant that Sarah was in one of the wing-back chairs instead of sitting beside him. Maggie had wedged herself in between his left hip and the arm of the couch. She seemed a little apprehensive about Wilson. _Probably she's picked up on the tension_, he thought. Sarah's recommendation of _Die Hard_ had eased things a little but House wasn't able to relax. He wasn't sure how to act around the two of them and the strain was making his shoulder ache.

When the movie ended, Wilson excused himself to use Sarah's bathroom. She got up to point it out to him. When she passed by the couch on her way back to the chair, House reached out to catch her hand. He tugged gently and she dropped down beside him, her eyes searching his face.

"You ok?" she asked softly, reaching out with her free hand to caress his cheek. He leaned into her hand, relishing her touch. He felt some of his anxiety ease.

"I'm better now," he replied and Sarah gave him a quick smile before sobering.

"You're hurting," she said quietly.

"I'm alright," he said. He heard the toilet flush down the hall and jerked back from her hand, causing another stab of pain from his shoulder. He winced and Sarah frowned.

"I can see that," she said wryly, moving her hand away. She stood as Wilson came into the living room. He started toward the couch but stopped when he saw Sarah.

"Am I… interrupting?" he asked.

"I'm going to take Maggie out for a walk," Sarah said, moving to get the leash from its hook by the door. "I won't be long. If you want to start another movie, go ahead. I won't mind." She got her coat from the closet and Maggie jumped down to meet her by the door. House looked from Sarah, kneeling to put the harness on the dog, to Wilson, standing near the end of the couch, and felt torn. He glanced at Sarah again but she had the door open and was going out.

Wilson sat beside him. House spared him a look, trying not to cringe at the sweatshirt. He'd hoped Wilson had finally gotten rid of that thing.

"So, want to start another movie?" Wilson asked.

"We should wait for Sarah," House said.

"She said we could go ahead…"

"It's her apartment. We should wait," House said.

"Ok." Wilson shrugged and looked away. "So, what did you end up getting Sarah for Christmas?"

"I… I didn't get her anything," House admitted.

"Uh-oh."

"It's fine," House said, hoping to cut off the conversation.

"Ok," Wilson said. "I'm hungry. Do you think Sarah kept the leftovers?"

"We can go see," House said, pleased that Wilson was dropping the subject of gifts. They got to their feet and went into the kitchen to check the fridge.

"So, how are things with Sarah?" Wilson asked, digging out a container of lo mein.

"They're fine." House felt wary again. He should've known Wilson wouldn't give up so easily; the man was like a terrier – once he got hold of something there was no getting him to let go. He braced himself for an interrogation, feeling another stab through his shoulder.

"What's really going on here, House?" Wilson asked, setting the container aside and folding his arms across his chest.

"What are you talking about?" House demanded. The pain in his shoulder increased as tension was replaced with anger.

"If you're trying to get to Cuddy, it's working," Wilson said. "If you're serious about Sarah…"

"Sarah is my friend," House said. He realized that his right hand was clenched into a fist and he concentrated on uncurling his fingers.

"Your _friend_?" Wilson sounded incredulous. "You certainly looked more than friendly in your office yesterday! You're spending all your time with her..."

House forced a smirk. "Jealous?"

"Less than a month ago you were determined to break up Cuddy and Lucas. Am I really supposed to believe you're done trying?"

"Yes!"

Wilson shook his head. "House, you don't get over things. You've been obsessing about Cuddy for years. Am I really supposed to believe that you met this woman and that's it? You're done with Cuddy?"

"I'm done with Cuddy and Cuddy's done with me," House said. He was surprised at how freeing those words were.

"Cuddy is NOT done with you," Wilson protested. "She's… House, look at the shirt she bought you! Do you have any idea how much she spent on that, not to mention the extra cost to make sure it was delivered on time for your discharge?"

"I…" Whatever House was going to say was interrupted by the sound of Sarah, calling from the living room.

"Hello?" A minute later she came into the kitchen, looking between the two men in obvious puzzlement. "What's going on?"

* * *

Thirteen spent the rest of the afternoon tidying her apartment in a futile attempt to distract herself. By the time she gave up, everything had been dusted and all her laundry was sorted and ready to be taken to the Laundromat or the dry-cleaners. Unfortunately, her mind was still fixated on the situation with Chase and Foreman.

"This is NOT what I need to be thinking about," she growled to herself, going to her closet. She'd been invited to a cousin's for Christmas dinner and needed to get dressed. Remembering her hickey, and her cousin's numerous observant and inquisitive children, she chose a soft grey turtle-neck and a red sweater vest before heading to the bathroom to see how much make-up she needed.

Her skin was still pale but her eyes looked better. She pulled her hair back from her face and made sure the turtleneck was hiding the hickey before digging out her foundation and starting her work. Her eyes kept going back to the hidden mark on her neck as she dabbed on concealer, foundation, and blush. She decided to leave her hair loose to give her an extra layer of protection, just in case the turtleneck moved.

She zipped up her boots, grimacing as she remembered that this was the pair that Foreman liked so well, and collected the small gifts she'd gotten for the cousin's children, putting them into a bag. She was reaching for her purse when she realized that she didn't know if her car was here. Had Chase brought her home in her car or in his?

"Shit," she muttered. If she had to go all the way to the hospital to retrieve her car, she'd be late for dinner. If she showed up in a cab, her cousin would want to know why. She put the bag of gifts down and went to the window, but it was dark out and she didn't have a view of the entire parking lot. She couldn't tell if her car was down there or not. She could wander around the lot or she could call Chase and ask him. She returned to her purse and fished out her cell phone. Butterflies started up in her stomach as she scrolled through her contacts list, looking for his number.

* * *

Sarah thought about her afternoon with Greg and Wilson as she walked Maggie through the park. Greg had been tense throughout the movie and she could see that he was hurting. He'd relaxed a little when she'd sat on the couch beside him, but then they'd heard Wilson and Greg had jerked away from her. She felt like they were teenagers getting caught by their parents, and it irritated her.

Maggie finished her business quickly and they started back for the apartment. The dog was moving fast, obviously eager to get out of the cold weather. Sarah felt the same way. It didn't take them long to reach their building.

When she entered the apartment, Sarah was surprised to find the living room empty. She'd thought that Greg and Wilson would be watching another movie. She heard voices coming from the kitchen and started to call out until she realized what she was hearing. She kept silent as she knelt to remove Maggie's harness.

"If you're trying to get to Cuddy, it's working," Wilson was saying. "If you're serious about Sarah…" Sarah froze in the act of unbuckling the harness, waiting to hear Greg's answer.

"Sarah is my friend," Greg replied, his voice terse. Sarah frowned; that wasn't really an answer to Wilson's question. She finished unbuckling Maggie and took the leash back to the hook. The dog jumped onto the couch, giving her a chance to listen a little longer.

"Your _friend_? You certainly looked more than friendly in your office yesterday! You're spending all your time with her..."

"Jealous?" Greg asked, cutting his friend off in mid-rant and Sarah nodded. That would certainly explain the tension. Wilson apparently wasn't used to sharing Greg's time with someone else.

"Less than a month ago you were determined to break up Cuddy and Lucas. Am I really supposed to believe you're done trying?" Sarah gripped the arm of the couch, feeling sick inside. Wilson really thought that the only reason Greg was spending time with her was to make Cuddy jealous?

"Yes!" Greg snapped.

"House, you… don't get over things. You've been obsessing about Cuddy for years. Am I really supposed to believe that you met this woman and that was it? You're done with Cuddy?"

"I'm done with Cuddy and Cuddy's done with me," Greg said calmly.

"Cuddy is NOT done with you," Wilson protested. "She's… House, look at the shirt she bought you! Do you have any idea how much she spent on that, not to mention the extra cost to make sure it was delivered on time for your discharge?"

"I…" Greg started to reply but Sarah decided she had heard enough. She was ashamed of herself for eavesdropping and upset by what she had heard.

"Hello?" she called out, making her way to the kitchen. Both men stared as she stepped in, clearly startled by her arrival. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. "Wilson got hungry," Greg said. "We were raiding the leftovers." She could feel him watching her.

"Ok," she said. "There's a lot of stuff left from last night too, if you're not in the mood for more Chinese food. We have cheese and crackers, part of a veggie tray…" She started toward the fridge but Wilson stopped her.

"Actually, I think I'll go on home," he said. "I uh, had fun. We should do this again sometime." This time when he smiled, his eyes were sad instead of resentful.

"Yeah," Sarah said. "I'll get your coat." She tried not to hurry on her way to the closet. She could feel Greg watching her and wondered if he'd figured out that she'd overheard part of their less than friendly exchange. She almost wished that Wilson was staying. If they put in a movie, she could pretend to watch while she got her emotions under control.

Wilson and Greg came out of the kitchen together. Greg was trying not to glare at Wilson and failing. Wilson was unapologetic but eager to leave. He took his coat from Sarah, gave Maggie a pet on the head, and went to the door. He looked back at them both.

"Merry Christmas," he said.

"Bye, Wilson," Greg said. Sarah moved to open the door.

"Have a good evening," she said and Wilson gave her another sad smile.

"Yeah, you too." He left and she closed the door behind him, moving slowly as she locked it. She could feel Greg's eyes on her and found herself reluctant to turn around. She didn't know what to make of the conversation she'd overheard and had no idea what to say to Greg.

**Me again. Seriously, Dick Powell is the BEST Marlowe ever (surprising for a guy known for roles in musicals, I know), and _Murder My Sweet_ is the best film adaptation of a Chandler novel I've ever seen. It's based off the book _Farewell My Lovely_. If you like Chandler, you should check the movie out!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I don't own House. As always, thanks to everyone for signing up for alerts and posting reviews and a special thanks to my beta, Brighid45, for her continued help and support. **

Thirteen paced as she waited for Chase to answer her call, feeling her butterflies increasing with each ring. She was about to give up when she heard someone answer.

"'lo?" Chase sounded half-asleep. "Remy?"

"Hi. Quick question. Is my car here or at the hospital?" Thirteen figured this was like taking off a band-aid – best to do it quickly and get it over with.

"What?" Chase sounded a little more alert, but he still wasn't all the way there.

"Is my car here or at the hospital?" Thirteen repeated, trying to keep exasperation out of her voice.

"At the hospital."

"Shit," Thirteen muttered before speaking up. "Ok, thanks. Go back to sleep."

"Wait! What's wrong?" Chase sounded fully awake now.

"I'm supposed to be going to dinner at my cousin's place," Thirteen said. "I'll…"

"I'll come get you."

"What? No, you don't…" There was a click as Chase hung up. Thirteen stared at her phone and sighed. She should call him back and tell him not to come. It would be faster for her to just call a cab. She found herself wondering what his plans for the evening were. Her cousin had said she could bring a date. Maybe she should just invite Chase to come along. She didn't like the thought of him spending Christmas alone.

With a groan, Thirteen dropped onto her couch. She didn't know what to do. Chase confused her. After his behavior in the exam room, she never would have expected him to rescue her from Foreman. What did he want from her? More importantly, what did _she_ want from _him_?

* * *

House had been startled by Sarah's arrival in the kitchen. He'd been trying to listen for the apartment door but he never heard it open. He'd watched her, looking for any clues that would tell him how much she'd overheard, and tried not to glare at Wilson. When Sarah didn't meet his eyes, he knew she'd heard something. He resisted the impulse to hit Wilson, who kept giving Sarah his pitying smile.

Sarah closed the apartment door behind Wilson and locked the door. She retrieved her coat, which was draped over one of the chairs, and took it to the closet. House stood by the couch and waited for her to say something.

"I… I need to do some laundry," she said, turning from the closet and starting toward her bedroom.

For a second House thought he couldn't have heard her right. "_Laundry? _ On Christmas day?" He wanted to stop her from leaving the room, but she moved too quickly and he couldn't cut her off. She called back over her shoulder as she went down the hall.

"It shouldn't take long. I can probably use all the machines without getting in anyone's way. Do you want me to start some of yours while I'm at it?" House heard her moving around in her room and a minute later she came back out, a laundry basket balanced on one hip. Her expression was unreadable, but he caught a glimpse of something that looked like unhappiness in her eyes. He winced.

"You don't need to do that," he protested. He didn't want her to leave, but Sarah moved past him, heading for the door.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said on her way out. House considered going after her but he didn't know what to say. _Let's face it,_ he thought. _Even if I knew exactly what she overheard, I still wouldn't know what to say. _ He sat down on the couch and looked over at Maggie, who wagged her tail. He reached out to pet her, grateful that at least with her he knew exactly what to do.

"I am done with Cuddy," he said aloud, wanting to hear it again. The statement had been his gut reaction to Wilson's accusations. He hadn't thought – he'd just said it. He'd been surprised to realize that he meant it, and even more surprised at how much better he felt for saying it. Of course Wilson hadn't believed him. _There's no better way to fool Wilson than to tell him the truth_, House thought with a chuckle. He sobered when he remembered what Wilson had said next. "_Cuddy's NOT done with you_." Was that true? What should he do about it? He could go to Cuddy, tell her that he wished her well with Lucas and was moving on with his own life, but she wouldn't believe him. She'd think it was a trick, part of some game that he was playing. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that no matter what he said, Cuddy wouldn't believe him. That was the price he paid for having a reputation as a lying bastard. Even when he told the truth, no one believed him.

His (admittedly well-earned) reputation worried him, even more than the thought that Sarah might have overheard something. He shuddered at the thought of the things she might learn from his colleagues at the hospital. She'd already met his fellowship team, Wilson, and Cuddy. How long would it be before one of them told her a House story that sent her running? She'd stunned him with her calm acceptance of his addiction and his stay at Mayfield, but even she had to have a breaking point. He didn't want to find out where it was.

* * *

Sarah wanted to get away from Greg for a few minutes so she could pull herself together. The only excuse she could come up with to leave the apartment was to do laundry. She knew Greg wasn't buying it but she hadn't given him a chance to stop her.

The laundry room was empty as Sarah had expected. She moved to the washers and started loading them. When she reached for her detergent, she found her hands were shaking. She set the box down and gripped the side of the machine she was in front of and blew out a deep breath.

"Argh! What am I doing? He said he was done with her!" _He also said you were just friends,_ nagged a voice in her head. _And Wilson said he's been obsessing over Cuddy for years. You knew there was something about that t-shirt…_ She shook her head as if she could make her thoughts scatter, but it didn't work. Her inner voice was relentless. _Dr. Cuddy is an intelligent, attractive woman –she's the Dean of Medicine, for pete's sake! They've known each other for years. He hasn't even known __you__ a month. _Remembering Wilson's sad smile was the final straw; she felt tears forming and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to stop them. Clearly he thought that in a battle for Greg's affections, Cuddy would win. That thought made her stomach clench and a wave of nausea wash over her. A few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Ok," she said, wiping the drops away. "Enough." She blew out another breath and managed to get the detergent into the machines so she could start them. Once they were running, she started pacing the laundry room, trying to calm herself down. Greg had to be wondering what was taking her so long. She needed to get herself together and go upstairs before he became even more suspicious or worse, came looking for her and found her like this. She gathered her things and started for the elevator.

* * *

Thirteen wasn't any closer to having answers to her questions when Chase knocked on her apartment door. The butterflies were jumping in her stomach as she opened the door. _Invite him, don't invite him_ played over and over again in her head.

"Hi," she said, not moving from the doorway. Chase was dressed in jeans, a pale blue polo, and a grey sports coat. _Ok, _she thought_. He looks nice. No reason there for not inviting him._

"You want to go get your car?" Chase asked.

"Yeah." Thirteen took a deep breath. "Unless… do you have plans tonight?"

"Nooo," Chase said, drawing out the word. "Why?"

"My cousin, uh, said I could bring a guest with me. I thought maybe…"

"You want me to come with you?" Chase sounded puzzled.

"Yeah. I mean, if you want to." Thirteen shrugged and hoped he hadn't noticed the waver in her voice.

Chase stared at her uncertainly for a minute before answering. "Ok."

"Ok." Thirteen grinned, feeling a rush of relief. "I'll just get my things." She moved away from the door to get her coat, purse, and the bag of gifts. She was moving so fast as she returned to the door that she tripped. Chase caught her before she could fall and she felt her face burn with embarrassment.

"I'm not going to run out on you," he said, helping her get her feet back under her. "You don't have to rush."

"I'm alright," Thirteen said. Chase still hadn't let go of her and the urge to move forward and kiss him was growing. Slowly, he moved his hands away from her arms.

"We… we should get going," he said, his voice husky.

"Yeah. Yeah." Thirteen shook herself as Chase turned to lead the way out of the apartment.

Once they were in his car, she gave him directions to her cousin's place. He glanced over at her as he drove.

"So, who am I meeting tonight?" he asked.

"Well, there's my cousin, Miranda, and her husband Paul. They have three kids – Justin, Denise, and Evan. My other cousin, Joyce, will probably be there with her sons, Martin and Michael. They're identical twins, by the way, and no one can tell them apart. Paul's sister Amy might be there too, with her flavor-of-the-month."

"And what am I in all this?" Chase asked.

"What?"

"How are you planning on introducing me?"

"You're my… friend. That ok?"

"Sure," Chase said with a nod. "So, tell me about these kids. Who's most likely to give me trouble?"

Thirteen laughed. "Evan, without a doubt. He's a prankster." She felt herself starting to relax as she told him stories of Evan's antics. Before long, Chase was laughing and Thirteen was feeling good about her decision to invite him. She hadn't seen Chase so relaxed in a long time, and she was looking forward to seeing what kind of pranks Evan came up with this year. Chase was bound to be a target, but she felt confident he'd take it in stride. He had a good sense of humor even if he hadn't shown it much lately.

When they reached her cousin's house, Chase parked along the curb and turned the car off. He made no move to get out of the vehicle and Thirteen looked over at him. He looked nervous.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Yeah. You… you don't think they'll mind that you brought me?"

"My cousin has been telling me for years to bring a guest. She'll be thrilled that I finally did."

Chase gave her a questioning look. "You never brought Foreman?"

"You were listening when I told you about Evan, right? Can you see Foreman enjoying a 12-year-old pulling pranks on him?"

Chase snorted. "No."

"Neither could I," Thirteen answered, smirking. "C'mon." She opened her car door and after a second Chase opened his.

* * *

House's shoulder had been throbbing by the time Wilson left and now his thigh, tired of being ignored, was getting in on the act. He got off of the couch slowly, hoping to walk out the impending cramp. He paced to the hall, then turned to go back across the room. He only made it a few steps before his thigh locked up in a muscle spasm that brought tears to his eyes. He was able to catch himself with his good arm, dropping his cane and reaching out to grab onto one of Sarah's wing-back chairs. He teetered there, clinging to the chair for a minute, but the spasm didn't let up. He hopped forward on his good leg, intending to sit in the chair, but missed his footing. He wound up sitting down hard on the living room floor, both legs stretched out in front of him.

The sudden landing had only increased the pain in his shoulder, and added a sore tailbone to his woes. He stayed where he was for a few minutes, rubbing his thigh furiously as he tried to get his breathing under control, before he looked back up at the chair. He was debating grabbing hold of it and trying to pull himself to his feet (or foot, at least) but he wasn't sure that the chair was solid enough. Tipping it over on top of himself would not be productive. Still, he didn't want Sarah to come back and find him on the floor like this, so he decided to try it.

He'd just reached up to grab onto the chair when he heard the apartment door open.

"Hey, I'm… Greg, what happened?" House turned to see Sarah drop the laundry basket and hurry toward him. "Are you ok?" She knelt down by his side, her face full of concern.

"My leg locked up," he said, feeling like a fool.

"Did you fall?"

"I sat down suddenly," House said.

"Ouch," Sarah said, wincing.

"Yeah."

"Would it be better to work out the cramp or get you off the floor first?"

House considered. His balance had been thrown off by having an arm in a sling. He wasn't sure he could get around on one leg, even with Sarah's help. "Cramp," he said.

"Ok," Sarah said, nodding. "What can I do?"

"Just… give me a minute." House clawed at his leg with his free hand but he wasn't accomplishing anything. Sarah, having two hands to use, would make a better masseuse, but that would mean letting her touch his leg.

"I could get a heating pad." Sarah sounded tentative. House sighed. The pains in his leg and tailbone were only getting worse; he needed to get off the floor. He reached out to grab one of Sarah's hands and guided it to the right place on his leg.

"Could you…" He hesitated, expecting her to jerk her hand away when she felt the scar through his jeans. Instead she moved her other hand into place as well and began to gently knead the remaining muscle.

"Like this?" she asked and he nodded, not trusting his voice. She continued the massage and he could feel the spasm easing. He put his right arm out behind him to keep himself upright and let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. After a few more minutes, the last of the cramping had stopped and he opened his eyes again with reluctance.

"That's good," he said. "You can stop now."

* * *

Sarah had hesitated outside her door, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly in an effort to calm herself. Greg had to be wondering what was taking her so long to get back from the laundry room. She opened the apartment door and stepped inside, hoping to keep all the turmoil she was feeling out of her face.

She called out, "Hey, I'm…" but her words died on her lips when she spotted Greg on the floor. "Greg, what happened? Are you ok?" Fear filled her as she dropped the laundry basket and hurried to him, kneeling at his side. He had his arm up and had grabbed onto the arm of the wing-back chair next to him like he was about to pull himself up.

"My leg locked up," he said, not meeting her eyes.

"Did you fall?"

"I sat down suddenly."

She flinched in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Yeah." He still wasn't meeting her eyes, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

"Would it be better to work out the cramp or get you off the floor first?" she asked.

"Cramp," he said after a second's thought.

"Ok. What can I do?" He was chafing his leg with his free hand but didn't seem to be having much luck getting the muscles to relax. She wanted to help, but she wasn't going to touch the leg without his permission.

"Just… give me a minute," he hissed, still working at the leg. Sarah waited but it was obvious from his drawn face that the leg was still cramping.

"I could get a heating pad," she offered and he sighed. The next second he startled her by reaching out to grab her right hand. His touch gentled as he guided her to his leg.

"Could you…?" he asked, his reluctance plain. Sarah could feel the substantial hollow in his thigh, the raised, irregular ridges of a large scar. She worked to control her features as revulsion and then sympathy moved through her. With care she placed her other hand beside the first and started to gently knead the leg, unsure how much pressure to put on it.

"Like this?" she asked and he nodded. She kept going, feeling the tight muscles start to relax. Greg moved his right arm back behind him, leaning on it, and let out a sigh. His eyes closed slowly. Sarah kept working, stealing glances at his face to gauge how well she was doing. Apparently her massage was helping; some of the tension appeared to ease.

After a few minutes, Greg opened his eyes. They were filled with relief and shame, and very bright as he looked at her. Sarah quickly looked back to her hands.

"That's good. You can stop now," he said. His voice had a husky quality she hadn't heard before.

"Ok." Sarah moved her hands away. "You ready to try getting up?"

"I need my cane," he said, looking around. Sarah spotted it on the floor a few feet away from the chair.

"Hold on to me," she said, shifting to get her feet under her and drawing his good arm over her shoulders.

"Wait . . . you shouldn't . . ."

"I've got you," she said firmly. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Greg said, drawing back his left leg. Sarah rose when he did, trying to keep as much of his weight as possible off of the right leg. "I need to stretch out." He hissed, grimacing.

"Ok. C'mon." She turned, moving them toward her bedroom.

"I can use the couch," he protested.

"You'll stretch out better back here," she said. "I'll get you the heating pad and move the ramp so Maggie doesn't climb up and walk on you."

"Hmph," was Greg's answer, but he didn't fight her. They reached the bedroom and Sarah helped him to the bed, glad that she'd decided to make it this morning. He sat down and she knelt to remove his shoes before helping him lift his legs onto the bed. He was wincing with each movement.

"I'll be right back," she told him, and headed off to fetch the heating pad from her bathroom. She cut Maggie off on her way back to the room and scooted away the ramp that gave the dog access to the bed. When she reached the bedside she saw Greg's eyes were squeezed shut. His right hand clutched his leg while his left was squeezed into a fist. She turned on a lamp so she could see to plug in the pad and Greg's eyes snapped open. The brilliant depths were dark with agony. He moved his hand out of the way so she could drape the pad over his thigh, then took hold once more, molding the pad around his leg. He closed his eyes and turned his face from hers, clearly embarrassed. Sarah got a spare blanket out of her closet and draped it over him before leaving the bedroom.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: _I'm baaack!_ Many apologies for the long absence. Insomnia and work-related insanity made me cranky and my muse refused to come near me. I have finally made amends with him and am hopeful that chapter 12 will prove less problematic. You can soothe the muse with a kind word or two in review! **

Thirteen felt herself getting more nervous the farther they got from her cousin's house. She'd had a terrific time at dinner, and she thought Chase had enjoyed himself too. He had been a target for Evan from the moment they walked in the door, but rather than resenting it, he'd seemed to revel in it. He'd even teamed up with the twins to get Evan back. Thirteen couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so much. Now that they were on their own again however, she felt the butterflies returning to her stomach. _Do I invite him back to my place?_ she wondered. _If I do, what am I expecting will happen? What do I want to happen? What does he want?_

"Do you want me to swing by the hospital so you can get your car?" Chase asked. He sounded relaxed and casual but Thirteen could see that he was gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"It's kind of late…" she said, her words hesitant.

"I could always take you by the hospital tomorrow," Chase said quickly, his face flushing. Thirteen smiled; he was cute when he was embarrassed.

"Ok," she said, her heart thumping.

"Should I come by your place in the morning or…" He trailed off and glanced her way. Thirteen felt her anxiety increase and she knew she'd want to see his face in the coming conversation.

"Chase … can we stop and talk for a minute?"

"There's a parking lot up ahead. I'll stop there," Chase said.

"Thanks."

A few minutes later Chase pulled into the empty lot and stopped beneath a security light. He put the car in park but left the engine running and turned toward her. Thirteen shifted in the seat so that she was facing him as well. She swallowed nervously, trying to decide what to say while Chase stared at his hands. After a minute he lifted his head to look at her. His words came in a rush.

"Last night, you were right. I was an asshole. I never should have treated you like that. I'm sorry." He ducked his head again.

"You said you didn't want me to go home with someone else."

Chase raised his face to hers, reaching out to take one of her hands. "I… Look, I like you. I'm attracted to you. But I didn't want to be just your hook-up. Cameron and I started out just having sex. That's all she wanted, and when I wanted something more, she ended it."

"Obviously she changed her mind," Thirteen said gently.

"I'm not sure. I feel like the whole time, I was looking for something more, something she wasn't really willing to give me. She… she balked at every step – sharing drawer space in her apartment, getting engaged, getting married. There was always something holding her back. I don't want to go through that again."

"What do you want, Chase?"

He was silent a moment. "You were right, the other night, when you said we were going too fast. I don't want to do that. I… this is going to sound corny, but maybe we could go on a date?"

She couldn't hide her surprise. "You mean like dinner and a movie?"

"Yeah. I just… I don't want us to get ahead of ourselves. Is that ok?" Thirteen couldn't help but smile. Chase was so earnest and it was adorable. She also couldn't remember the last time she'd gone on an actual date.

"It's more than ok," she said, giving his hand a squeeze, and he smiled, his face lighting up.

* * *

House came awake suddenly and it took him a minute to realize where he was. He lay on Sarah's bed, covered in a blanket. He had a vague recollection of lying down after his leg cramped up, but couldn't remember falling asleep. The bedside lamp was on, the heating pad folded up beside it; his cane was propped up against the table. The alarm clock showed it was just after 3 a.m.

House sat up and slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took a minute to assess his pain before moving any more. The right leg was sore but not cramping, and his left shoulder had diminished to a dull ache. His tail-bone was still a bit bruised; by tomorrow morning however, even that would be gone. The apartment was quiet, but he could see light coming from the living room. He grabbed his cane and levered himself to his feet, making his way slowly.

Sarah was stretched out on the couch, asleep. She was on her side, her arms tucked up under the throw-pillow beneath her head. She was partially covered by one of Maggie's blankets, and House spied the dog's nose poking out of the edge near Sarah's waist.

He sat down on one of the ottomans and reached out to brush a few strands of hair from Sarah's face, studying her. There was a faint scar by her right brow, probably dating back to her childhood. For a few seconds he speculated about how she'd gotten it. She'd said something about being clumsy as a child. Had she fallen? He shuddered, thinking of more sinister causes, and pushed the thoughts away. _Don't project,_ he scolded himself. Sarah hadn't said much about her early years, but when she'd spoken of her family her tone had been affectionate.

He resumed his study of her face. Her brows were drawn together slightly, and he thought she looked worried, though the lack of rapid-eye-movement told him that she wasn't dreaming. He wished he could brush away her troubles as easily as he'd tucked away a few locks of hair. _What did she overhear this afternoon?_ he wondered. _Is that what she's worrying about? Or is it finding me on the floor that's got her concerned?_

House sighed and turned his head, staring across the room. He didn't know what to do about Wilson. The man had been trying to convince him to pursue Cuddy for over a year. _He's always so certain that he knows what's best for me,_ House thought. _And then he's determined to make me to accept it. I have to admit that sometimes he's right. I __did__ need to quit the Vicodin. But he's wrong about Cuddy. _

With another sigh, House turned his gaze back to Sarah. He wasn't using her to make Cuddy jealous. When he was with Sarah, he didn't even think about Cuddy. He _was_ over her, no matter what Wilson thought. But that didn't mean that things with Sarah would work out either. It was only a matter of time before someone at the hospital told her something about him that she couldn't handle. _Am I going to wind up hurting her?_ he asked himself. _She doesn't deserve that. I'm an addict and a cripple and an ass. She deserves better._

House got carefully to his feet and felt in his pocket to make sure he had Sarah's spare key. He went back to the bedroom where he retrieved his shoes, gripping them awkwardly with his left hand, and slung the spare blanket over his shoulder. Returning to the living room, he set his things aside long enough to cover Sarah's sleeping form with the blanket. It was awkward with one arm in a sling but he managed to do it without disturbing her. He gathered up shoes and cane, clicked off the light and slipped out the door, locking it behind him.

Once in his own apartment, he didn't bother with illumination. The glow from the street-lights was enough. He dropped his shoes by the door and made his way to the couch, where he stretched out and let his head rest on the arm. He was tired, but he knew sleep wasn't going to come again tonight. His thoughts returned to Sarah. Once again, she had surprised him. He'd expected to see pity or revulsion on her face when she'd touched his leg; he'd expected her to pull away. Instead, she had calmly massaged the remaining muscle until the cramp eased. _And you couldn't even manage to thank her. You're an ungrateful little…._ The voice in his head sounded eerily like his father's and he shuddered. _She deserves better_.

* * *

Sarah woke up with the feeling that something was wrong. The lights were off in the living room, and sunlight was leaking in past the edges of her curtains. She was on her couch, Maggie pressed up against her and both of them covered in a blanket. She realized it was the one she'd put over Greg the night before and struggled to sit up without knocking Maggie off onto the floor.

"Greg?" she called. She squirmed around, managing to get off the couch without incident—quite a feat, as at the moment Maggie was a dead-weight, seeming far heavier than her 12 pounds. "Greg?" she called again, moving stiffly toward her bedroom. She was disappointed but not surprised to find her bed was empty.

After she'd given Greg the heating pad and covered him with the blanket, she'd left him alone. He'd been embarrassed and she'd wanted to give him some space. She'd moved her wash into the dryers in the basement and returned to her couch. While she waited for her laundry to finish, she looked through one of the books her mother had given her for Christmas and listened intently for any sound from her bedroom. When she'd finally gone to check on Greg, he'd been asleep. She'd removed the heating pad, not wanting him to burn himself, and put it on the bedside table so it'd be close by if he woke up and needed it again. She put his cane by the table, leaving the lamp on, and returned to the couch.

Sarah glanced at the clock and saw that it was just after 9. She put a hand onto the mattress where Greg had been and found it was cool. She wondered how long ago he'd left. It was sweet of him to cover her with the blanket but she wished he'd woken her and let her know that he was ok. He didn't need to feel embarrassed.

She sat down on the bed and shuddered as she remembered the way Greg's leg had felt under her hands. It had been like a rock when she'd first started the massage, and it must have been incredibly painful. Greg had said that a surgeon had removed dead tissue from his leg after the infarction. To judge from the hollow and the scar she'd felt there had been a lot of damage. _How often does this happen?_ she wondered. _What causes it?_

The click of toenails on the floor disrupted Sarah's thoughts and she looked over to see Maggie walk into the bedroom, her tail wagging tentatively.

"Some watch-dog you are," Sarah said to her. "Greg got up and left and you didn't even wake me." She got to her feet. "I guess I'd better get changed and take you outside."

* * *

Thirteen woke up feeling happy. There were butterflies in her stomach, but this time they accompanied a feeling of happy anticipation. Her first coherent thought was _today I'm going on a date with Chase._ She felt herself smiling. They'd agreed last night that he would come by this morning to take her to get her car. After that, they'd go to lunch and decide how to spend the rest of their day.

Chase had promised to come get her at 10. Thirteen took her time getting ready. She was glad to see that the mark on her neck was fading but she still didn't feel like displaying it. She dug through her clothes, vacillating between a few different outfits before she settled on a purple turtleneck sweater, jeans and low-heeled boots.

Even though she'd taken her time, she was still ready well before Chase was due to arrive. She sat on her couch and tried to read a journal, but gave up when she realized she was reading the same article for the third time and still didn't know what it was about. She got to her feet and paced the apartment, straightening a few things here or there. She was on her third lap when her cell phone rang. She grabbed it off the coffee table, half-hoping it was Chase saying he was coming early and half-afraid he was calling to cancel. She was startled when she saw that the caller id said Foreman was calling. She reluctantly answered the phone, hoping he wouldn't continue their argument from yesterday.

Foreman skipped any greeting. "Cuddy's calling us in. We have a case."

"Ok." Thirteen glanced at her watch. It was 9:45. Hopefully Chase was already on his way to her apartment.

"See you shortly," Foreman said, and was gone. Thirteen looked at the phone, wondering if she should call Chase. She had just started to dial his number when she heard a knock on her door. She hurried to open it and was relieved to find him waiting.

"Foreman called me," he said. "We've got a case."

"I know. Did he give you any details?" Thirteen stepped out into the hallway, pausing only long enough to lock the apartment door behind her. She and Chase made their way quickly to the elevator, Chase sharing the few details Foreman had given him. All thoughts of their date were pushed aside.

* * *

House sat on his couch for several hours, the tv playing quietly. There was nothing on that he wanted to watch but he welcomed the noise it provided. He dozed off and on but real sleep eluded him. His thoughts kept returning to Sarah. He couldn't shake the fear that, no matter how hard he tried not to, he was going to wind up hurting her. Part of him thought it would be kinder to just end things now but he didn't think he could do it. He hated himself for being so selfish.

At 8 he gave up and got off the couch. He'd felt chilled since his return to his apartment, the cold seeming to penetrate right to his bones. He took a shower, hoping the warmth of the water would soak into him. He wound up sitting under the hot spray, not trusting his leg to support him. When he climbed out of the tub, the bathroom was full of steam, but he was still chilled.

He'd just pulled on jeans and was struggling into a t-shirt when he heard knocking on his door. He limped to it, cane-less and barefoot. He wasn't surprised to find Sarah and Maggie. They'd obviously both been outside; Sarah was bundled up in her coat and a hat and her cheeks were pink.

"Hi," she said, giving him an uncertain smile.

"Hi." House stepped back to let her into the apartment, glad to shut out the chill of the hallway.

"Are you ok?" Sarah asked, kneeling to take the harness off Maggie. The dog charged forward and started to lick his feet. It tickled and he wanted to jerk away but didn't trust his balance without his cane. Instead, he turned and started for his bedroom.

"I'm fine," he said over his shoulder. He wasn't surprised when both Sarah and the dog followed him. Sarah stopped in the doorway while Maggie ran around the room, sniffing all the corners. He got socks and sat on his bed, trying to pull them on without using his left arm. Sarah stepped forward to help but he moved his foot away from her. "I'm fine," he repeated. She retreated to the bedroom doorway. He tugged on the first sock, trying not to wince.

"When did you wake up?" she asked quietly.

"Around 3," he answered, keeping his gaze firmly on his feet. He got the second sock on and looked around for his shoes. He remembered that he'd dropped them by the front door and stood, intending to retrieve them. Sarah was still in the doorway, blocking his path. He stopped at the end of the bed, making it clear he was waiting for her to step aside. She looked away from him but not before he saw the hurt on her face.

"I'll get out of your way," she said quietly. "Maggie, c'mon." She turned to go back to his living room, the dog on her heels. He followed behind them, part of him hoping they would just go and part of him hoping Sarah would stay and give him a chance to make things right.

"Sarah…" He was cut off by another knock on his door. He moved forward to answer it while Sarah scooped up Maggie. He was surprised to find Cuddy in the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"You didn't answer your phone," Cuddy said. When he didn't respond, she sighed and continued. "You need to come in. You've got a case."

"Since when?"

"Since the 14-year-old grandson of one of our biggest donors fell ill," Cuddy replied. She brushed past him, stepping into the apartment, and came to a stop when she saw Sarah.

"I was just leaving," Sarah said quickly.

"Wait…" House said. "I… need your help." He wanted to send Cuddy out to the hall so he could have a moment with Sarah but he knew Cuddy wouldn't cooperate. She wasn't going to allow him any chance to avoid going with her, not with a donor's grandchild ill. He retrieved his shoes from the floor and moved to the couch. Sarah put Maggie down and the dog immediately charged at Cuddy, her tail wagging. Cuddy took a sharp breath and stepped back. House thought he saw a malicious grin flash across Sarah's face, but when she spoke to Cuddy her expression was polite and concerned.

"Don't let her worry you. Maggie loves everyone. Mags, come over here." Sarah perched on the coffee table, helping House get his shoes on. After a second, the dog leapt up beside him and he reached out to pet her.

"Symptoms?" he asked Cuddy.

"I'll get you a shirt and jacket," Sarah murmured, getting to her feet. Cuddy edged in between the couch and his piano, watching the dog warily.

"Fever, severe headache, neck pain, and vomiting," she said.

"How high's the fever?" House continued to rub Maggie's soft ears, enjoying this clandestine moment of affection. Sarah returned to the room with a blue button down shirt, a gray sports-coat and his sling. He got to his feet and she helped him into the shirt. He started fastening buttons, wincing a little as he moved his left arm. Sarah took over.

"104," Cuddy said, frowning at him.

"When did the symptoms start?"

"He was perfectly healthy yesterday," Cuddy said, trying to divide her gaze between him and the dog. Sarah helped him into the jacket and he lifted his sling.

"Does he have a rash?" he asked.

"You're thinking meningitis?" Cuddy asked, giving him her full attention now.

"We need a lumbar puncture."

"I called Foreman and asked him to get the rest of your team. He should be at the hospital by now." Cuddy pulled her cell phone from a coat pocket and dialed, quickly issuing instructions for the lumbar puncture. House looked at Sarah.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He wanted to say more, but Cuddy ended her phone call.

"House, we need to hurry," she said, moving briskly to his closet to get his coat.

"Of course," Sarah said. "Go. I'll lock up." She lifted Maggie from the couch and followed them into the hallway. House looked back at her but she was busy with his door. With a sigh, he turned to follow Cuddy outside.

* * *

Sarah had argued with herself throughout Maggie's walk. She wanted to check on Greg, unable to shake the image of him on her floor, but she was afraid he'd resent her intrusion. His embarrassment last night had been obvious.

She still hadn't made up her mind when she climbed the steps to the apartment building, but Maggie apparently had. The dog headed straight for Greg's door, her tail wagging. Sarah took a deep breath and knocked. She knew this was a mistake the second Greg answered. He hadn't looked happy to see her but he'd let her in. He was obviously fresh from the shower, his hair damp and his feet bare. She'd followed him back to his bedroom where he'd struggled into socks, refusing her help. At that point she'd decided to go and called Maggie, trying to hide her hurt.

They'd just reached the living room when there was a knock on the apartment door. Greg had moved to answer it and Sarah scooped up Maggie to keep the dog from charging at the visitor.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked. Sarah was surprised to hear Dr. Cuddy answer him.

"You didn't answer your phone. You need to come in. You've got a case."

"Since when?"

"Since the 14-year-old grandson of one of our biggest donors fell ill." Cuddy replied, stepping past Greg into the apartment. She came to a stop when she saw Sarah. Surprise and something else – possibly disappointment – flashed across her face for a second before she fixed on a polite smile.

"I was just leaving," Sarah said quickly.

"Wait…" Greg said. "I… need your help." He lifted his shoes from the floor and sat on the couch. Sarah was confused by his request – he had just rejected her offer of help with his socks – but she put Maggie down, intending to meet him. Maggie charged at Cuddy, her tail wagging, and Sarah was surprised to see the older woman step back, looking alarmed. Sarah fought back an impulse to laugh, trying to be reassuring instead.

"Don't let her worry you. Maggie loves everyone. Mags, come over here." Sarah took a seat on the coffee table, helping Greg into his shoes. Maggie jumped up onto the couch beside him and he began to rub her ears. Sarah glimpsed a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he stroked the little dog.

"Symptoms?" he asked Cuddy.

"I'll get you a shirt and jacket," Sarah murmured, getting to her feet. She could hear them continuing their conversation as she made her way to Greg's bedroom, selecting a blue shirt and a gray jacket from his closet. She got his sling off the bed and returned to the living room. Cuddy was standing between the couch and the piano, watching Maggie warily. The dog was still lying beside Greg as he continued to play gently with her ears. He got to his feet when he saw Sarah and she helped him into the shirt. He started fastening buttons, wincing a little as he moved his left arm and she took over.

"104," Cuddy was saying.

"When did the symptoms start?" Greg asked, his expression thoughtful.

"He was perfectly healthy yesterday." Sarah helped him into his jacket and then got the sling.

"Does he have a rash?" he asked, flinching as she got the sling into place.

"You're thinking meningitis?" Dr. Cuddy sounded alarmed.

"We need a lumbar puncture."

"I called Foreman and asked him to get the rest of your team. He should be at the hospital by now." Cuddy pulled her cell phone from a coat pocket and called someone. Greg looked away from her, meeting Sarah's gaze as the other doctor issued orders for the test.

"Thank you," he said quietly. He seemed to be about to say more, but Cuddy ended her phone call.

"House, we need to hurry," she said, moving quickly to get Greg's coat from his closet.

"Of course. Go. I'll lock up," Sarah said. She had only heard part of the discussion, but she knew that a fever of 104 was dangerous and that meningitis was a serious diagnosis. She scooped Maggie up from the couch and followed the doctors to the door. Greg got his coat from the closet and shrugged his good arm into it as they stepped into the hallway. Sarah turned to lock up. By the time she had finished, they were gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: I STILL do not own House, just the lady and the dog. I hope everyone is staying safe in all the winter weather we've been having. Sorry this chapter was so long in coming, and is a little shorter than my usual - the real world continues to interfere with my writing. Once again, a big thanks to my beta, Brighid45! **

Thirteen felt herself getting nervous as they got closer to the hospital. Her car was still sitting in the parking lot; Foreman probably saw it when he came in. She did not want him to witness her arrival with Chase. He'd been angry when she rejected him yesterday; how much worse would he be when he realized that she was moving on with someone else? _God, how could I have wound up with him at that party? I am never drinking at a hospital bash again!_

"Who do you think will give us more shit for showing up together, House or Foreman?" Chase asked.

"Oh God," Thirteen groaned. "I didn't even think about House. Do you really think he'll be a problem?"

"I know he's being Kinder-Gentler House right now but I still can't see him letting this slide with _no_ snide remarks. He's still House."

"Kinder-Gentler House?" Thirteen chuckled.

"We could call him K-G-H for short," Chase suggested.

"No," Thirteen said, trying not to laugh. "If you keep calling him that it's going to be all I think about when I see him and I'll wind up giggling through the differentials."

"I think I'd enjoy that. The looks on Taub's and Foreman's faces…" Thirteen could picture it and she laughed.

"Stop it!"

"Ok, ok," Chase said, trying to suppress his own amusement. "We're almost there." He was calm for a second, and then another chuckle escaped him.

"Quit it. I'm serious," Thirteen chided, trying to regain her composure. She had to stop thinking about K-G-H or she'd never be able to look at House without cracking up. Her only consolation was that if she started laughing, Chase probably would too. Of course, that could wind up being much worse than just being seen arriving together. Her earlier tension returned.

"Seriously, I don't think it will be a problem. He didn't care when Cameron and I got together," Chase said.

"I'm not worried about House," Thirteen said. She knew she could handle him. He hadn't made much of an effort to break up things between her and Foreman and his snide comments rarely got under her skin anymore.

"You think _Foreman's_ going to be a problem," Chase said.

"He came by yesterday afternoon. He was upset that I left without him. He thought we were going to get back together."

"So, you want to keep this quiet," Chase said. Thirteen couldn't tell if he was just confirming that or if it bothered him.

"We're taking our time, figuring out what we want from each other and where we're going, right?" she asked, hesitant to say more but wanting to explore the issue out loud. "I just think it will be easier to do that without everyone at work putting their two cents in."

"Ok," Chase said. "That… makes sense." He glanced over at her and smiled.

Thirteen breathed a sigh of relief and returned the smile. "Ok."

They were quiet the rest of the way to the hospital. They didn't see anyone in the parking lot or locker-room but Thirteen felt herself getting nervous again as they approached the diagnostics department. Her steps slowed and she was about to tell Chase to go on ahead when Foreman charged out. He called for them to come with him, explaining that they needed to do a lumbar puncture on their patient. As they took the elevator to ICU, Foreman told them that their patient was the 14-year-old grandson of one of the hospital's biggest donors, and that House had ordered the LP.

"He's thinking meningitis?" Chase asked.

"The symptoms fit," Foreman replied. "We've started iv antibiotics but the kid's allergic to penicillin."

"Why would Cuddy call us in to treat meningitis?" asked Chase. "It's a serious diagnosis but it's hardly mysterious."

"Because this kid's grandmother is our biggest donor and she wants House," Foreman snapped. Thirteen was startled at his vehemence and she wondered what was behind his anger. Was he jealous of House, annoyed at having his holiday weekend interrupted, or still smarting from her rejection? Whatever his motivation, she hoped he calmed down before they reached the patient and his family. Cuddy would be furious if Foreman managed to offend them.

* * *

House sat back in Cuddy's car-seat, grateful for the heated leather. He still felt chilled, and the warmth was also soothing to his sore leg and bruised tail-bone. He kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to talk. He could feel Cuddy glancing at him and sighed. There was no chance that she would stay silent just because he hoped she would.

"You didn't need to come get me," he said, deciding to take the initiative.

"You didn't answer your phone," Cuddy replied.

"You don't need me to treat a simple case of meningitis."

"You are an infectious disease specialist. Besides, the family wants you."

He almost laughed. "No, they don't."

"They want our best doctor and they've heard over and over again that that's you," Cuddy said. House grunted in response and she sighed. "Of course if you stopped getting yourself into trouble all the time, I wouldn't have to keep telling donors that."

"Riiiiight. You have no choice."

"House, when people are considering giving away millions of dollars to a hospital, they like to think that they're helping people. They get a little concerned when they hear that one of said hospital's doctors criticizes another donor's company or gets arrested for drug possession or winds up in a..." Cuddy stopped and let out a growl of frustration. "The point is, I have to tell them something to justify why you are still on our staff."

He shrugged and regretted the gesture when his shoulder sparked with pain. "I have tenure."

"The fact that you have tenure is not a good reason, in their minds, for us to keep you on. The fact that you are a brilliant doctor who figures out diagnoses that no other doctor can, is."

"So you talk me up just to get their money."

Cuddy made a noise indicating impatience."House… you are a brilliant doctor."

"And returning to our original point, this case doesn't require a brilliant doctor."

"This is their _grandson_! They're scared and they want the best doctor taking care of him. It's not an unreasonable request, especially after all they've done for our hospital." Cuddy turned into the lot and started toward her parking place.

"Hello? Cripple here," House protested. She sighed and aimed the car toward the front doors instead.

"Wait for me in the lobby," she said. "The family will want to see that you've arrived."

"You can tell them I'm with my team, figuring out what's wrong with their kid," House retorted, getting out of the car as she came to a stop.

"House…" He shut the car door on Cuddy's protest and limped to the entrance as quickly as he could. He wanted more information about their patient. Cuddy had not provided nearly enough detail to suit him. Foreman should have completed the lumbar puncture already; it might still turn out to be something more interesting than meningitis.

House crossed the nearly empty lobby and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. He found Diagnostics empty and hoped it was because his fellows were getting the LP. He dumped his coat in his office and moved to the conference room. A blue file folder was on the table and he carried it to the whiteboard, starting a list of symptoms. He noted their patient was allergic to penicillin.

"Dr. House?" The voice startled him, sending a jolt of pain from his shoulder as he jumped. He turned to find a short woman with silver-white hair worn in a chin-length bob. She was casually dressed, in slacks and a blouse with a cardigan sweater, but the clothes were obviously expensive, as was the understated gold jewelry she wore.

"I take it you are…" House looked at the file "Shawn's grandmother."

"Beverly Whittier. I understand that you don't normally see patients, but my daughter-in-law is insistent that you see Shawn. She seems to think if you meet her child, you'll care more about his treatment."

House wanted to reply that seeing her grandson was more likely to irritate him than inspire compassion, but he remembered that something in the hospital was named after the Whittiers. He wasn't sure what - the cardiology center or maybe it was the new play-area for Wilson's cancer kids. It didn't matter. He could go willingly now, or be dragged down later by an irate Cuddy. Ms. Whittier was calm and polite. Cuddy wouldn't be. "Let's go," he said, dropping the file back to the table and retrieving his cane from where he'd hooked it over the whiteboard.

* * *

After Greg left with Cuddy, Sarah returned to her apartment. She busied herself, getting food for Maggie and trying to decide what she wanted to eat. She was confused. Greg clearly hadn't been pleased to see her when she first stopped by. He'd rejected her offer of help, until Cuddy showed up. She thought of Wilson's accusation that Greg was using her to make Cuddy jealous and her stomach twisted. She put the eggs she'd just grabbed back into the refrigerator; she wasn't hungry anymore.

Sarah wound up cleaning out her kitchen - going through her cabinets, refrigerator, and freezer. She tried to keep her mind occupied with checking expiration dates, but her attention drifted back to Greg and Cuddy anyway. She finally turned on her stereo to a local oldies station and returned to the kitchen, singing along with the songs in an effort to drown out her thoughts.

By noon she had filled her trash can. When she'd finished with the cabinets she'd moved through the apartment, emptying all her wastebaskets. She took the bag to the door, intending to cart it out to the dumpster. She realized as she stepped into the hallway that she had left her coat and hat draped over the back of Greg's couch and decided to retrieve them. She propped the trash by her door and crossed the hallway.

She entered the apartment and made straight for her coat. She scooped it up and turned back, coming to an abrupt halt. James Wilson was standing at the open door of Greg's closet, his hand in a shoe. He jumped guiltily at the sound of her voice, turning to face her as he pulled his hand away.

"James? What are you doing here?"

He blushed. "I… I was… what are _you_ doing here?"

"I left my coat behind earlier," Sarah said. "What are you looking for?" She suspected he was searching for a stash and felt a stab of anger. He'd sent Greg back here, knowing or at least suspecting drugs were on the premises, and he was just now worrying about them?

"Look, I don't know what House's told you…" Wilson lifted a hand to the back of his neck, all uneasy awkwardness, and Sarah's phony meter went off. She wasn't dragging the truth out of this guy, he was _pretending_ to be reluctant to tell her about Greg's addiction. He wanted to tell her, was probably hoping that she'd be freaked out by Greg's big secret. Her anger intensified.

"If you're looking for his pills, you're too late. They're gone," Sarah snapped.

The play-acting vanished. Wilson looked genuinely stunned. "I… what…"

"I know about the Vicodin," Sarah said, reigning in her temper with effort.

Resentment flashed across Wilson's face. "He told you all about it, did he?"

"I know he started hallucinating and spent six weeks in a mental hospital," Sarah said, feeling her hands start to shake as her voice grew louder. "I know when he was released, his psychiatrist wanted him to stay with you. I know you kicked him out of your apartment four weeks ago even though _you knew_ those pills were still here!"

"I suppose he told you all about the hallucinations too?" Wilson retorted, his eyes flashing. "How my dead girlfriend was talking to him, helping him diagnose patients? How he imagined that he spent the night here with Cuddy, de-toxing, and had sex with her the next morning?"

"He said he started seeing people who weren't there," Sarah said, trying to keep her face impassive even as her mind raced.

"We found out what was happening when he went to the 2nd floor balcony and announced to everyone in the lobby that he'd had sex with Lisa Cuddy."

"Oh my God," Sarah whispered. She fought back tears, imaging how humiliated Greg must have felt when he realized what he'd done.

"I guess he didn't tell you everything," Wilson said, giving her a smug smile.

"I didn't interrogate him, or have him investigated," Sarah retorted. She wanted to smack that self-righteous smirk off the man's face. "I know Lucas Douglas has been questioning my neighbors. Did you send him, or do I have Dr. Cuddy to thank for that?"

The smile on Wilson's face turned malicious. "Why don't you ask House about it?"

"You--you're saying Greg hired that man to investigate me?"

Wilson shrugged, a casual gesture that didn't match his tense body language. "He's done it before."

"He asked Lucas to find me when I was hiding from Todd, because he was worried about me," Sarah protested.

"He hired Lucas to follow me, and had him investigate his team too. House's motto is 'Everybody lies.'" Wilson narrowed his stare. "Everybody includes you."

"I think you should leave now," Sarah said, struggling to stay calm. "There's nothing here for you to find."

"Just because House told you that he got rid of his pills…"

"I was here," Sarah snapped. "He asked for my help! I… I was here. Now get out!" She took a step toward Wilson and he moved to open the door, a quick sidestep that suggested he was afraid of her. Sarah frowned. That made no sense; she hadn't threatened him in any way.

"House is an addict," he said. He turned in the hallway to look back at her. "Addicts lie." He left, pulling the door shut quietly behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Insert boring disclaimer here. Let me also say that I am not a medical professional. I have done my best to research the illness referenced in this chapter but I have no doubt that some of you out there could pick it apart. So I ask you to willingly suspend your disbelief and just roll with it! A big thanks once more to my beta, Brighid45. Check out her fantastic Treatment series. The fourth story, January Thaw, is up now and is excellent reading!**

The patient's temperature was 105 and climbing. Thirteen helped Foreman with the LP while Chase went to prepare an ice bath. Taub seemed to have a good rapport with the parents so he took on the task of explaining to them what was happening. The boy, Shawn, was unconscious, though he muttered from time to time. He seemed to be talking to his father. Once the procedure was completed, Foreman took the CSF to the lab for testing while Thirteen and Chase accompanied the patient to hydrotherapy.

Taub joined them as they reached the therapy room. "The mother is insisting that House come and see her son," he said. "The grandmother went to get him."

"That should be fun," Chase said under his breath. He was about to speak aloud when the door to the therapy room banged open and House limped in.

"LP done?" he demanded, skipping any greetings.

"The fluid was cloudy. Foreman's running tests," Thirteen said, taking in the dark circles around House's eyes and the fact that he was leaning on his cane more than usual. He looked tired.

"His fever's topped 105," Taub said. "We've got to get him cooled down."

"Oh, _that_ explains the ice. I thought you were using the tub for your beer." House stayed by the door as the other three doctors lifted the patient and lowered him into the tub. He was a tall, gangly boy who'd clearly just gone through a growth spurt. He seemed to be all limbs. Shawn had been quiet up to this point, but when he hit the ice he cried out.

"Ah! Dad! No! Let me out!" He began to thrash and fight. Chase and Taub moved quickly to catch his arms as Taub tried to soothe him, explaining what was going on. Thirteen looked over at House to see that his face had gone grey, with a light of something approaching panic in his eyes. He backed away and out the door to beat a hasty retreat from the therapy room. She glanced to the tub to make sure Taub and Chase had managed to settle the boy down before following House. He was moving rapidly down the hall, heading toward the elevator. As Thirteen watched he stumbled and caught himself against the wall, dropping his cane in the process. She hurried after him and retrieved it from the floor.

"Are you…" she began, worried about his lack of coordination and his strange behavior earlier. Something was very wrong.

"Pump the kid full of steroids and start him on penicillin," House snapped, yanking the cane from her hand. He started toward the elevator again, moving more slowly this time. Thirteen fell into step beside him.

"House…"

"Patient's back there," House said, cutting her off again. "He's the one you're supposed to be worrying about."

"Right." Thirteen stopped walking and watched as House reached the elevators and entered one a moment later. He turned to face the doors and glared out at her. With a sigh, she went back to the therapy room. Whatever was wrong with House would have to wait.

"House ok?" Chase asked when she entered.

"I think his leg is bothering him," Thirteen said. "He wants us to start the kid on steroids and penicillin."

"The kid's allergic… but the steroids will take care of that," Taub said.

"And hopefully slow down the increase in inter-cranial pressure. It's a good idea," Chase said.

"I'll go tell the parents," Taub said.

"You ok here?" Thirteen asked Chase.

"Yeah – go get the meds."

"Ok." She followed Taub out. To her surprise, he walked with her toward the pharmacy rather than returning to the patient's room and the waiting parents.

"What's going on with you and Chase?" he asked.

"You need to go talk to Shawn's parents."

He ignored her pointed deflection. "Your car was in the lot when I arrived – looked like it had been here for a while. Did you wind up going home with Chase after the party?"

"It is none of your business if I went home with anyone," Thirteen snapped.

That earned her a half-smirk."House will make it my business. So will Foreman."

"Taub…"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. I'm going." Once he was gone Thirteen groaned. If Taub suspected, it wouldn't be long before Foreman and House did too. _So much for keeping this quiet_, she thought.

* * *

House had felt his heart-rate increase when he saw the tub full of ice. His first instinct was to flee but he forced himself to stay where he was. He needed to know what the LP had revealed. He should have left after Thirteen told him but he'd felt frozen in place. When the boy cried out, House had felt his stomach twist. He could feel the cold of the ice burning against his skin, so painful that it took his breath away, and strong hands gripping his shoulders. He stumbled from the room, trying to regain control of his breathing, pushing away the panic welling up within.

Thirteen had followed him into the hallway, retrieving his cane when he stumbled. She handed it to him and tried to ask if he was alright.

"Pump the kid full of steroids and start him on penicillin," he snapped, cutting her off. He took his cane from her and started toward the elevator again. He wanted to walk fast and leave her behind, but his leg was throbbing and he couldn't do it. She fell into step beside him.

"House…" she began.

"Patient's back there. He's the one you're supposed to be worrying about."

"Right." She stopped walking but when he stepped into the elevator and turned to face the doors, he saw she was still in the hallway, watching him. He glared at her.

All he wanted to do was escape to his office, but he was afraid to sit still for too long. Instead he made his way to the lab. He knew it was too early for Foreman to have results but he was looking for any way to distract himself.

Foreman looked up when House entered. The younger man's inquiring glance quickly turned into a glare. "I just got the samples ten minutes ago," he said. "It's too soon to have any results."

"We're starting the kid on penicillin," House said, waiting for the explosion.

Foreman's dark eyes held anger. "Kid's allergic to penicillin. He's not dying fast enough to suit you?"

"We're also pumping him full of steroids."

Foreman frowned for a moment before nodding. "To prevent the increase in inter-cranial pressure. The steroids will keep his airways from swelling shut when you give him the penicillin."

"Gee, you almost sound like a doctor," House said, taking a seat on a nearby stool. Foreman went back to work as House began to twirl his cane. He moved it faster and faster, flipping it into the air like a baton a few times. Foreman rolled his eyes at him but continued working.

"So," House said, deciding to escalate the aggravation, "I take it you and Thirteen did not kiss and make-up at the Christmas party."

"What?" Foreman still didn't look away from the microscope in front of him.

"Your sunny disposition and the fact that you're down here avoiding her is a dead give-away," House said, resuming his cane-twirl. "Who'd she wind up with?"

"What makes you think she wound up with anyone?" Foreman snapped, finally tilting his head a bit to look at him.

"Your sunny disposition and the fact that you're down here, avoiding her."

"I am not avoiding anyone," Foreman retorted.

"If you really want her back, you're going to have to apologize for firing her."

"I don't remember saying I wanted her back," Foreman said, continuing his work. "And I certainly wouldn't have said it to _you_."

House stared up at the ceiling in mock contemplation of the dust marks on the tiles. "You're going to have to mean it."

Foreman looked over at him, his eyes narrowed. "House…" He sighed and shook his head before turning back to the microscope. House resumed twirling his cane.

* * *

Sarah spent a few minutes in Greg's apartment trying to calm herself before pulling on her coat and leaving. It seemed like hours had passed rather than minutes; she was surprised to find the trash outside her door. She barely remembered bringing it out of her apartment. She collected the bag and carried it to the dumpster, hardly noticing the sting as the cold air hit her cheeks. Her hands were still shaking when she returned to her apartment, so much so that she had trouble getting her key into the lock.

Once she made it inside, she collapsed on her couch. Maggie leapt up beside her and climbed onto her lap. Sarah put her arms around the dog and allowed the tears swimming in her eyes to fall at last. The argument with Wilson had left her shaken. What he'd said was upsetting, but what most disturbed Sarah was the venom that laced his words. She could understand how he might resent the time Greg spent with her and feel excluded, but his reaction seemed out of proportion. He had seemed to truly despise Greg. There was more going on than jealousy.

Sarah remembered when she'd been in the emergency room, getting stitches in her hand while Lucas Douglas told her how he'd first met Greg. He had told her that Greg had been in a bus accident with Wilson's girlfriend. The woman had died, Wilson had told Greg that they weren't friends anymore, and Greg had hired Lucas to keep track of him. Had Wilson said they were no longer friends because he blamed Greg for his girlfriend's death? At some point they'd apparently resumed their friendship, but now Sarah had to wonder if Wilson had really forgiven Greg.

"I'm jumping to conclusions," Sarah muttered, wiping away the last of her tears. "I don't really know what's happened between them." She thought back to the bottles of Vicodin that she'd emptied and tried to remember the name of the prescribing physician. Had it been Wilson? She wasn't sure. He apparently had been genuinely shocked that she knew about the pills. If he felt guilty about prescribing them, she could see how he might feel threatened by the fact that she knew about it.

Regardless of what was behind Wilson's resentment, Sarah needed to figure out how to tell Greg about the encounter. She ran through different scenarios in her mind even as she tried to keep herself busy that afternoon. By evening, she had managed to take down her Christmas decorations and finish her laundry but still didn't feel that she knew what to say.

* * *

Thirteen and Chase wheeled Shawn back toward his room. They had kept him in the ice as long as they dared and were pleased to see that his temperature had gone down. As they neared their destination, they could see a cluster of people standing in the hallway. Shawn's parents, an older woman they assumed was his grandmother, Cuddy, and Taub stood together. Their voices were low but they were clearly unhappy. The group moved aside to let Thirteen and Chase push the gurney into the room. Taub followed and helped them transfer the boy to the bed. As soon as a nurse moved away the gurney, Cuddy stepped into the room.

"Where is House?" she demanded, keeping her voice quiet.

"I'm not sure," Thirteen admitted. "He came in just before we moved Shawn into the ice, to find out what the LP showed."

"The mother still wants to see him," Taub said quietly.

Cuddy sighed. "How's the kid doing?"

"Temp's down to 101. We're pushing Tylenol and we've got cooling blankets on stand-by," Chase replied.

"Did you start the penicillin?" Cuddy asked.

"Yes, and Dexamethasone," Thirteen answered. "Foreman took the samples to the lab."

"Right," Cuddy said. She was about to speak again when Shawn began to convulse on the bed.

"He's seizing," Chase cried, moving to the bed. Cuddy stepped back into the hallway to keep the parents out while Taub moved to get Dilantin. Thirteen and Chase lowered the bed and turned Shawn's head as he began to vomit.

* * *

Foreman continued his work, pointedly ignoring all provocation. When twirling his cane became boring, House switched to drumming out different rhythms on the floor. He'd been at it for about five minutes when Foreman finally faced him.

"Would you _stop_--" he began.

"House!" Cuddy's voice came from the doorway. House spun on the stool to see her entering the lab. "I have been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing here?"

"Hangin' with my homey," House replied. "I told you – you don't need me for this case--"

Cuddy cut him off. "Your patient's having seizures. The treatment isn't working."

"If you want to take over, be my guest. I'll go on home."

"House…"

"They just started the penicillin," Foreman protested. "It's too soon to say that it isn't working."

"Do we even have confirmation that this is bacterial?" Cuddy asked. "What if it's viral, or fungal?"

"The rapid onset of symptoms suggests meningococcal meningitis," Foreman said. "I've started cultures…."

"That's…" Cuddy began. The door behind Cuddy swung open and Chase entered the room. House took one look at his face and knew that the news wasn't good.

"It doesn't matter," House said quietly, cutting Cuddy off. He looked to Chase. "When?"

"A few minutes ago. Taub and Thirteen are with the parents."

Cuddy looked from Chase to House, her face going pale. "Oh God," she muttered. She hurried out, her heels clacking on the tile floor. House rose from the stool and followed. He found her in front of the elevators.

"Cuddy!" he called and she turned to face him as he approached her.

"House, I need to get to those parents," she said.

"I need an autopsy."

"No, you don't. You've got your cultures. In a few hours you'll be able to determine if this was bacterial and which strain we're dealing with."

He couldn't keep the impatience out of his voice. "There may have been some underlying condition that weakened the kid's immune system. He was young…"

"That's right, he was only 14, and I'm not about to ask his parents to let you cut him open on a fishing expedition!"

"Cu--"

"_No,_ House! No! Just… go home," she said wearily. "Get out of here. If I catch you near this family…" The elevator arrived and Cuddy stepped in. "Go home, House," she repeated as the doors slid shut.

**Reviews make my day so please, hit that button over there and send me one!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: I do not own House - I am just borrowing him (and since FOX seems so reluctant to do anything with him this season what with breaks for baseball and holidays and now the Olympics, I really don't think they should complain). Thanks as always to Brighid45, my inestimable beta reader. Reviews really make my day so don't be shy - send me a word or two!**

Thirteen followed Taub and Chase into the diagnostics' conference room. She felt drained. It was always upsetting when a patient died, but to lose one as young as Shawn and then to have to tell his parents had been heart-wrenching. His mother had wailed and sobbed, collapsing in a heap on the floor, while his father had seemed almost catatonic. There had been a glint of tears in his grandmother's eyes but she had remained calm, helping them move her son and daughter-in-law into a private waiting area. Thirteen had been relieved when Cuddy arrived and took over. She'd left with Taub and Chase, grateful for the chance to slip away.

House was in the conference room, staring at the white-board. Foreman stood at the end of the table closest to the door.

"I am not sneaking into the morgue, House," Foreman was protesting.

"There has to be something that we missed," House muttered, continuing to stare at the board.

Foreman sighed. "The cultures will be ready in a few hours…."

"Go home," House said. He turned from the board to look at them, wincing at the movement. Thirteen thought he looked exhausted.

"The cultures…" Foreman began.

"Haven't you heard – a watched culture never grows? Go home," House snapped, turning back to the white-board. Foreman gave an exasperated sigh and stalked off. Taub and Chase followed him. Thirteen hesitated, studying the slump in House's shoulders and the way he leaned on his cane. She knew he didn't want company, but she didn't like the idea of leaving him here alone either. She moved up a chair so he could sit while he studied the board. He didn't acknowledge her gesture and stayed on his feet.

"Foreman's probably out of the locker-room by now," House said after another minute passed. "And Chase is waiting for you."

Thirteen shook her head even though she knew he couldn't see her. "House…"

"I said go home." There was an edge in House's voice now. Thirteen knew if she kept pushing, the conversation would turn nasty. She shook her head again and left.

Chase was waiting, as House had predicted. He met her at her locker.

"What kept you?" he asked quietly.

"Are we alone?" Thirteen asked, keeping her voice low.

"Yeah – Taub and Foreman are gone. What's up?"

"I'm worried about House," Thirteen said. "He… what?" Chase had turned away from her and she could almost feel a wall slamming up between them.

"It's always House," Chase muttered. He sounded bitter.

"I said I was worried about him, not that I was in love with him," Thirteen protested. "Chase, did you see him in the therapy room?"

"I was a little busy trying to make sure our patient didn't drown himself," Chase retorted.

"I thought House was going to have a panic attack – that's why I followed him out into the hallway. He was really shaken up."

"But not too shaken up to prescribe treatment for the kid," Chase said.

Thirteen was starting to get irritated. "I just don't like the idea of leaving him here alone."

"Fine!" Chase threw his hands in the air. "Stay here then." He spun on his heel and marched toward the locker-room door.

"Chase!" Thirteen stepped after him, catching his arm before he reached the door.

"I'm not going to waste my time running after another woman who's hung up on House," Chase said, turning to glare at her.

"I am not hung up on House," Thirteen protested. "I told you before – I think dismissing him as a misanthropic ass is oversimplifying."

"Hmph."

"Look, whatever it is that we're starting is never going to work if you don't trust me."

A long silence fell.

"You're right," Chase said at last, his head bowed.

Thirteen fought the urge to reach out and touch him. "Chase, I promise, I am _not_ hung up on House."

"So what do you think you're going to accomplish by staying? He isn't going to appreciate it. He isn't going to open up to you."

"I'll settle for distracting him from whatever it was that had him so scared this afternoon."

Chase shook his head. "I think you're imagining things. He's probably asleep in his chair right now."

Thirteen rolled her eyes. "Fine – I'll make a deal with you. If we go up to his office and he's asleep, we'll leave. But if he isn't, I'm staying."

Chase stared at her for a minute before he let out a sigh. "Ok."

They left the locker-room together, passing no one on the way to the elevator. Thirteen felt herself getting more tense as they got closer to the diagnostics conference room. How would Chase react if she wound up staying? She hadn't lied to Chase when she said she wasn't hung up on House, but seeing him so shaken had worried her.

Thirteen's steps slowed as they neared their department. She could see that House wasn't in the room and she took a few more tentative steps forward, spying him in his office. He was standing behind his desk.

"Wilson's in there with him," Chase murmured. Thirteen moved a little closer and saw the oncologist, standing near House's recliner. "He's not alone. Ok?"

"Ok," Thirteen said, pushing down a feeling of unease. While Wilson and House seemed to have resumed their friendship, there was still a great deal of tension between them. She hoped Wilson could persuade House to go home and get some rest.

* * *

Sarah paced her living room, waiting for Greg to come home. She'd cleaned everything that could be cleaned in her apartment and had even given Maggie a bath and trimmed the dog's toenails. Maggie was eating her dinner now and Sarah knew she should be finding some for herself but she wasn't hungry. Her stomach was tied in knots. She still didn't know what to tell Greg. Part of her hoped he would return soon so she could get it over with; part of her wanted to believe if he stayed at the hospital long enough, she'd be able to discover the right thing to say.

Sarah replayed her conversation with Wilson over and over again, trying to figure out if she could have done something differently. She'd been curious about Greg's hallucinations from the moment he'd first mentioned them but she hadn't wanted to learn about them from Wilson. Greg should have been the one to tell her, when he was ready. Even worse, she wished she could take back her final comments. She'd let her temper get the better of her judgment. Telling Wilson that she had been involved in the disposal of Greg's pills felt wrong. If Greg had wanted Wilson to know, he would have told him. She wasn't looking forward to sharing that part of the encounter. How would he react to her betrayal?

Sarah was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed Maggie enter the living room. The dog jumped onto the couch and squeaked at her a few times. When that didn't garner a response, she let out a loud bark. When Sarah looked over, she saw that the dog had brought up one of her "pelts" – the remains of a stuffed toy.

"Are you saying enough of the pity-party?" Sarah asked. "Ok – I'll try." She grabbed the toy and Maggie jumped down, ready for a game of fetch. They played for close to an hour and then it was time to take the dog out. When they returned, both chilled from the cold, they curled up under a throw on the couch and Sarah turned on the television. She looked for anything to distract her but no such luck. She left the tv on for the background noise it provided and found herself worrying about Greg again.

_Addicts lie_. Wilson's parting shot came back to her. He'd seemed convinced that the drugs she'd disposed of were not all that Greg had in the apartment. Sarah thought back to that day, remembering how Greg had been shaking when he opened the apartment door. There had been no reason for him to put on a performance for her; they'd only just met. She didn't believe it had been an act. Greg had undoubtedly lied to Wilson in the past when he was using, and it was understandable that Wilson wouldn't feel able to trust him now. He probably thought she was naïve to believe in Greg. _Maybe I am naïve, _Sarah thought, _but how is the man supposed to change if no one gives him a chance?_

_

* * *

  
_

After Cuddy left, House and Foreman went back to Diagnostics. House's mind was racing, trying to figure out if he could've missed an underlying condition. There had to be _something_.

"Don't," Foreman said as the elevator stopped at the 4th floor. House ignored him. He wanted to get to the white board and study his listing of symptoms again. When he reached the conference room he went straight to the board. Foreman came to stand beside him. House could feel the weight of the younger man's glare. He heard the door creak slightly as it opened and knew the rest of his team had arrived.

"I am not sneaking into the morgue, House," Foreman said.

"There has to be something that we missed," House said, not turning away from the board.

"The cultures will be ready in a few hours…."

"Go home." House turned from the board to look at the team, disappointed that no one had anything to contribute. They all stared back at him, their faces tired.

"The cultures…" Foreman began.

House cut him off. "Haven't you heard – a watched culture never grows? Go home." House turned back to the white-board. Foreman gave an exasperated sigh and turned away. The door squeaked softly again. House could just make out Thirteen's reflection in the window beyond his white-board. He ignored her. After a few minutes, she stepped forward and moved up a chair behind him.

"Foreman's probably out of the locker-room by now. And Chase is waiting for you," House told her. He could see her shaking her head in the window.

"House…" she began.

"I said go home," House snapped. He didn't want company, especially not hers. The last thing he felt like discussing was what had happened in the therapy room. He saw her shake her head again and then turn away. A second later the door thumped shut and he breathed a sigh of relief. Once he was sure she was gone, he took a seat in the chair she'd moved.

When the tell-tale creak sounded again a few minutes later he let out an exasperated sigh and got to his feet, prepared to tell her off for coming back. He was surprised to find Wilson standing there.

"I heard about your patient," Wilson said.

"That I had one, or that he's dead?" House asked, moving toward his office. Wilson followed him.

"Both," Wilson said. "I thought you might…"

"Cuddy refused to ask for an autopsy. I know you're useless at picking locks but you could distract the staff down in the morgue."

Wilson's eyes widened in alarm. "House…" He let his voice trail off.

"Relax. I'm just waiting for the cultures to grow," House said, frowning. Threatening to do an unauthorized autopsy should have prompted Wilson to give him a lecture about how he needed to obey rules or be sensitive to other people's feelings. It wasn't like Wilson to pass up the chance to lecture him.

"What?" Wilson asked. "Why are you frowning at me like that?"

"You're feeling guilty," House replied.

"I am not feeling guilty." Wilson lifted a hand to the back of his neck. "I just had an…encounter with Sarah and…"

"What did you do?" House demanded, feeling his heart-rate increase. What had Wilson told Sarah? He'd known it was only a matter of time before someone at the hospital disclosed something unpleasant about him but he'd hoped it wouldn't be Wilson. How had she taken it?

"I didn't do anything to her," Wilson said. "I… I knew Cuddy called you in and I went to your place, to search for your stash. I know I should've done that a long time ago…"

"Cuddy called me in on this case so you could search my apartment." It was a statement, not a question. Wilson made an impatient noise.

"Cuddy called you in because the boy's family wanted you on the case. There was no conspiracy here, House. I just saw an opportunity to… fix my mistake."

"Four weeks _after_ you kicked me out of your place."

"I just said it was a mistake, House!" Wilson snapped.

House took a deep breath. He needed to know what Wilson had said to Sarah. "So you had the opportunity to go to my apartment…"

"I went over there and I was… searching, and Sarah came in. She said she was getting her coat, that she'd left it behind earlier."

"She stopped by this morning, right before Cuddy showed up," House said, anxious for Wilson to go on.

"She… she was angry. She all but accused me of trying to drive you back to the pills. Then she said that Lucas Douglas had been questioning all her neighbors and accused me of hiring him to spy on her! She… I thought she was going to hit me! She sounded so… paranoid!"

"_Did_ you hire Lucas to spy on her?"

Wilson's gaze shifted away from his. "House… what do you really know about her? You said you're different around her. I saw you with her yesterday and I didn't like what I saw. You were so tense…"

"Yesterday… it wasn't the same, yesterday," House protested.

"Because I was there? She obviously didn't want me there."

"She… it had nothing to do with her!"

Wilson's eyes widened in shock. "You're blaming _me_? You're unbelievable, House."

"I'm not…" House began. His gaze narrowed as he realized why Wilson was dodging his question. "You didn't hire Lucas yesterday. You hired him _before_ you spent time with me and Sarah."

"Her crazy whatever-he-was attacked you! I…" Wilson stopped, his hand returning to the back of his neck as he looked at the floor. "I'm not jealous, House. I'm not. I just…" He fell silent a moment. "The first time I talked to Amber was this summer."

"What?" House was puzzled by the sudden change of subject.

Wilson still didn't meet his gaze. "Two patients died. I was expecting one but the other… It was an awful day and at the end of it I just wanted to go over to your apartment, have a few beers and watch some horrible television show that you'd TiVoed. But you weren't there. You were in Mayfield and you weren't accepting visitors. I… I went home and I just… started talking to her. It made me feel better, and I kept talking to her, all summer."

"Wilson…"

His friend looked up at him and shrugged. "You're right. I don't handle loss well." With another shrug, Wilson turned on his heel and walked out of the office. House sank into his desk chair, rubbing his leg. His heart was still pounding and now his leg was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His arm and his side were aching and his eyes burned. The image of his patient, struggling in the ice-bath, sprang unbidden to his mind and he felt his chest grow tight. He looked around his office, trying to find some way to distract himself. His gaze slid past the mortar and pestle and came to rest on the lupus text on his bottom shelf. He wondered if Wilson's failure to look for his stashes was limited to just those in his apartment. If he opened the book, would he find the familiar Vicodin bottle inside? He swallowed nervously and reached out to take the volume off the shelf.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Insert dull disclaimer here. Moving on, a big congrats to my invaluable beta, Brighid45. Three of her excellent stories (Treatment, Thursday's Child, and Shelter from the Storm) were nominated for RocktheHouse Awards! I have no doubt we'll see her current work, January Thaw, amongst next year's nominations. If you haven't checked out her excellent stories yet, I highly recommend that you do. **

Thirteen and Chase returned to the locker-room in silence. Thirteen wasn't sure what to say. She was still apprehensive about leaving House with Wilson but she was also well aware of Chase's insecurities where House was concerned. He'd already almost walked out on her once tonight; she didn't want a repeat performance.

Chase waited by her locker while she swapped out her lab-coat for her winter gear. She shut her locker and turned to him, intending to ask if he wanted to grab dinner. He spoke before she could.

"Look, you were right. This won't work if we don't trust each other," he said. "I'm sorry." He ducked his head, staring down at his hands.

Thirteen was pleased and surprised by the apology, but unsure what to say in response. "Chase…thank you for going up with me." She reached out to touch his arm and he looked up at her.

"You really think House was having a panic attack before?"

She nodded. "It looked like one. He was breathing fast and he stumbled out in the hallway – I thought he was going to fall. But mostly it was his eyes; he looked so… frightened."

"House doesn't get frightened."

"Chase… I don't want to spend all night arguing with you about House."

He shrugged. "Ok by me . . . then what would you like to do? We didn't get to have our date."

"How about some dinner?"

"I'll follow you to your place and then we can go from there," Chase suggested.

"Ok."

They walked out of the locker-room together, their shoulders brushing from time to time as they walked down the hall. Each time they touched, Thirteen felt a little electric thrill run through her. She wanted to grab Chase's hand but she reminded herself that they were in the hospital. She was grateful for her restraint when they entered the lobby. Foreman was waiting there, with Taub standing next to him.

"What kept you two?" Foreman asked as they approached.

"I wanted to wait with House," Thirteen said. "Chase talked me out of it."

"We were talking about going out for a drink," Taub said. "Care to join us?" Thirteen glanced at Chase. She didn't want to spend even part of the evening with Foreman and Taub, but she wasn't sure how she and Chase could get out of this without arousing suspicions.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I've done too much drinking lately," Chase said. "I'm just going to go home." He stepped around Taub and headed out the doors into the parking lot. Thirteen watched him go, unsure if she should be irritated that he'd left her to find her own way out or pleased at his apparent vote of confidence in her ability to take care of herself. Foreman would never have left her in this position, but he also would have used his "help" as a chance to control.

"So, Remy, you in?" Foreman asked and Thirteen frowned at the use of her first name. It felt territorial, even possessive.

"I'm actually pretty beat," she said. "I think I'll just go home. Maybe next time." She side-stepped around Taub and made her way out into the parking lot, trying not to hurry.

Chase had parked beside her car that morning and she felt her heart sink when she saw that the spot was empty. Was he going on to her place as they'd planned, or had running into Taub and Foreman scared him off?

* * *

Sarah didn't remember falling asleep. She was disoriented when she woke up and found herself on her couch. She sat up slowly. Her neck was stiff from hours in a half-seated position and her legs ached from the weight of Maggie stretched across them. She shifted the dog off and stood up slowly, stretching her arms up over her head. The clock on her VCR said it was 6:30.

Greg had never called. She'd finally called his cell the night before but he hadn't answered. She'd left a message on his voice mail, just letting him know that he could contact her if he needed anything. When she returned from walking Maggie, Sarah stopped by his apartment. She knocked on his door but there was no answer.

Half-way through her shower Sarah decided she would go to the hospital. She could take Greg a change of clothes and maybe he could get away from the case for a few minutes. He had to eat after all. She dried her hair and dressed quickly, feeling her nerves return. She hadn't decided what to tell him about Wilson. If he was still at the hospital it must mean his case wasn't progressing well. The last thing he'd need would be for her to add to his worries. She'd wait until the situation was calmer.

The fourth floor was quiet. Very few of the hospital's senior doctors were working on this holiday weekend. Sarah was surprised to find that the lights were out in the Diagnostics conference room. Where was his team? The blinds were all drawn in Greg's office and when Sarah tried the door she found it was locked. She knocked. Was Greg inside? Why had he stayed here last night instead of calling her? She would have come and gotten him. A minute later the blinds moved and she saw Greg unlocking the door. He looked exhausted. There were deep shadows under his eyes and he moved slowly, limping back to let her into the office.

"Are you alright?" Sarah asked, looking around. All the blinds were drawn and the lights were off, save for a lamp on the desk. Her eyes were drawn to the sole bright spot in the room; she felt her breath catch when she saw the orange prescription bottle sitting just outside the little pool of light. She looked from it to Greg.

"What is that?" Sarah asked, nodding toward the bottle. Her heart was racing.

"It's a prescription," Greg replied. His voice was terse, the words clipped.

"I can see that," Sarah said quietly. She stepped forward and lifted the container, turning it to read the label. It was hydrocodone, a generic substitute for brand name Vicodin; the prescription had been written for Gregory House by J. Wilson and filled six months ago. She looked up at Greg, keeping her expression one of mild inquiry. His eyes sparked with defiance.

"I took one pill, last night. I'm not seeing things. I'm fine."

Sarah felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. She took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. Greg was on the defensive already. She didn't want to make things worse by acting in an accusatory or negative manner.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone still soft. It didn't help. Greg sighed, clearly exasperated.

"_Nothing_ happened. I was in pain."

"Greg…" She knew it was a mistake to use his name when she saw his shoulders hunch.

"I told you, I'm fine!" he snapped. "It was just--just one pill!"

"You know it's not that simple. You should call Dr. Nolan, tell him what happened."

"_Nothing. Happened_. I was in _pain_." Greg was glaring at her now as if he hated the sight of her, his eyes a brilliant, harsh blue.

"If that's all it was, then why did you hide in here all night? If you were hurting, why didn't you come home and sleep in your own bed?" Sarah was fighting hard to keep calm. She met Greg's withering stare head on and after a second he looked away. Guilt flashed across his face.

"I'll call Nolan this afternoon," he said, but he sounded less defiant and more uncertain. "We're scheduled to talk then anyway."

"Call him now," Sarah said, daring to push a bit. As she stuffed the pills into her pocket she spied Greg's cell phone sitting on the desk. She picked it up and held it out to him. He looked at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. With reluctance he reached out to take the phone.

"It's a holiday week-end…"

"Call him," Sarah repeated, folding her arms across her chest. Greg stared at her for another second before he began to dial.

"Do you want to see the screen, confirm that I'm behaving myself?" he asked, his tone that of a petulant child. Sarah shook her head.

"Just call him, Greg. I'll wait out here." She turned to go into the conference room and found that the door was locked. She fumbled it open as Greg began to speak.

"Dr. Nolan… its Greg House."

* * *

House came awake with a start. He wasn't sure what had woken him until he heard the light knocking on his office door. With a groan he got to his feet. He was expecting to find a janitor outside, wanting to clean the office. He was surprised to see Sarah waiting when he drew back the blinds. He fumbled with the lock and pulled open the door, limping back to let her in. She asked him if he was ok as she looked around the office. His desk lamp was on and he spotted the pill bottle at the same time she did.

"What is that?" Sarah asked, nodding toward the bottle.

"It's a prescription," House said, bracing for a lecture.

"I can see that," Sarah replied dryly. She stepped forward and lifted the bottle. He saw her eyes widen as she read the label. She looked up at him with a questioning expression.

He bristled. "I took one pill, last night. I'm not seeing things. I'm fine."

Sarah was still for a minute. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

House sighed. "_Nothing_ happened. I was in pain."

"Greg…" Sarah began.

Anxiety flared deep within. He snapped at her without thinking. "I told you, I'm fine! It was just—just one pill!"

"You know it's not that simple. You should call Dr. Nolan, tell him what happened."

"_Nothing. Happened_. I was in _pain_." House glared at Sarah, willing her to leave it alone. He was surprised when she didn't flinch or shy away from him.

"If that's all it was, then why did you hide in here all night?" Sarah's voice was gentle but unrelenting. "If you were hurting, why didn't you come home and sleep in your own bed?" House felt his stomach twist as guilt surged through him.

"I'll call Nolan this afternoon. We're scheduled to talk then anyway," he said, hoping to put her off. It didn't work.

"Call him now," Sarah said, tucking the Vicodin into her pocket as she lifted his cell phone from the desk and held it out to him. House dared to look at her, bracing to see anger and disappointment in her face. She didn't look upset or distressed, just resolute. After a second he reached out reluctantly for the phone.

"It's a holiday week-end…" he tried, still hoping to postpone the inevitable.

"Call him," Sarah repeated, folding her arms across her chest. He stared at her for another second but it was clear that she wasn't going to back down. He began to dial the number, his hands just a little unsteady.

"Do you want to see the screen, confirm that I'm behaving myself?" he asked, and winced at the childish whine in his voice.

Sarah shook her head. "Just call him, Greg. I'll wait out here." She turned to open the door into the conference room and fumbled with the lock. Nolan picked up before she got it open. His greeting was smooth and pleasant.

"Hello, this is Nolan."

"Dr. Nolan… its Greg House."

"Is something wrong, Greg?"

"I… I think I need to come see you," House said, starting to feel sick inside. He dropped into his chair, feeling himself start to tremble as the enormity of what he'd done began to sink in. "I… made a mistake."

* * *

Thirteen came awake slowly. For a minute she let herself just wallow, enjoying the comfort and warmth of her bed. She smiled as she thought about the night before. She'd been relieved to find Chase waiting in his car when she pulled into her apartment's parking lot. After their encounter with Foreman and Taub, she'd been afraid that he wouldn't be there. He'd come upstairs with her to figure out where they wanted to eat.

They hadn't been sure where to go for dinner. Neither of them wanted to chance encountering anyone they knew, so they'd ruled out places near campus. They'd finally called for take-out and wound up eating Chinese food on her couch. After some initial awkwardness, they'd talked together for hours, swapped med school stories and recounted some of the more interesting cases they'd worked on with House. The evening had gone by very quickly.

It was after 10 when Chase said he should go. It had felt very strange to walk him to her door. Part of her wished he would stay, but he'd said he wanted to take things slowly. She knew his concerns were valid. Her own habit of rushing into relationships hadn't worked out well either. Even with all that in mind, she'd had a hard time not urging Chase to reconsider after he kissed her good-night. She'd watched him walk down the hall to the elevator. He'd waved at her before the door slid shut and she smiled at the memory. He could be so darn cute!

When the phone rang, Thirteen wasn't surprised to find that it was Chase on the line. She slid back under her covers, smiling at the sound of his voice.

"I was just thinking about you," she said.

"Good thoughts, I hope," Chase replied, a smile in his words.

"I was thinking about how cute you looked, waving good bye from the elevator," Thirteen admitted and Chase laughed.

"Cute, huh?" He chuckled again and Thirteen felt her face burn as she blushed. They flirted for a few more minutes before Chase asked her if she'd like to have lunch and they agreed that he would pick her up at 11. Once she hung up Thirteen bounded out of bed, eager to get dressed and giggling like a school girl. She was ready when the knock came on her door at 10:45.

She flung the door open without looking through the peephole, announced, "You're early!", and was stunned to find Foreman standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"I didn't think you'd be expecting me," he said with a frown.

"I—I wasn't," Thirteen said. Her giddy mood evaporated. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Foreman said. "These are for you." He held out the flowers toward her. She made no move to take them or step back from the doorway.

"Eric…" She fought to keep her exasperation from showing. All she wanted was for Foreman to leave before Chase arrived.

"Remy, I know I screwed up. I should have handled things differently… explained myself..."

"You shouldn't have fired me." She didn't want to go over this again, not here, not now, not ever.

"Come on, you _know_ I had to…" The condescending tone in Foreman's voice jabbed at Thirteen. She glared at him.

"No, you didn't. And we've already had this discussion."

"Remy…"

"Foreman, there's nothing more to say. Please, just get out of here."

"You're kind of dressed up," Foreman said, narrowing his eyes at her in speculation. She didn't like the annoyance she saw growing there. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Foreman, go!" Thirteen pointed down the hall toward the elevator. At that moment, the bell chimed and the doors slid open. Chase emerged, his steps faltering as he took in the scene down the hall.

**Reviews make my day so please, don't be shy! **


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: I don't own House. A big thank you to everyone who's reviewed, signed up for alerts, and added to favorites. It always makes my day to know that you're enjoying my scribblings! Another big thanks to Brighid45, my wonderful beta, for all her help and encouragement! **

Greg sat silent in the car, hunched against the passenger door. He seemed to be trying to put as much physical distance as possible between himself and Sarah as he stared fixedly out the window. She could almost feel a wall of icy air between them but had no idea how to breach it, or if she should even try right now.

She had paced the conference room while Greg spoke with Dr. Nolan; he'd finally knocked on the window and waved her into his office, handing her the phone without a word. She'd spoken with the psychiatrist, who'd asked her if she'd be willing to bring Greg to the hospital to see him. She'd answered that she'd do it if that's what Greg wanted. Greg had nodded at her question, not meeting her eyes. She'd talked briefly with Nolan about what gate to use at the facility and where to park. When she'd concluded the call, she'd used Greg's computer to get driving directions. She'd shown him the change of clothing she'd brought for him, but he'd just shaken his head and struggled into his coat, stepping back from her offer of assistance. They'd made their way out of the hospital in silence.

Half-way through the trip, Sarah pulled into a gas station, needing to refuel both the car and herself. Greg remained huddled in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He didn't look over at her when she asked him if he wanted anything. She bit back a sigh and opened the door.

In the restroom the pills rattled in her pocket. She pulled out the bottle, emptied the pills into the toilet and studied the label. The fill date was six months ago, and the label indicated that there was 1 refill remaining. Sarah wished she could remember what the labels on the other bottles had said. Had Wilson written all of those prescriptions as well? She felt anger surge through her. First the apartment and now the office - had he made _any_ effort to find Greg's stashes? It certainly felt like he wanted to sabotage his friend's efforts at sobriety.

When she returned to the car, the now-empty bottle back in her pocket, she closed the door with more force than she intended. Greg flinched away from her and Sarah felt her stomach twist. He'd cringed as if expecting a blow.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"M'okay," he muttered, not turning from the window.

"I brought you a Coke," she said. When he didn't respond, she put the bottle into the cup holder and started the car. Greg un-hunched a little as she pulled out onto the highway. A few minutes later, he shifted in the seat and reached for the drink.

"Thanks," he muttered. He was now staring through the windshield instead of the passenger window. Sarah felt the barrier between them waver just a little.

"No problem," she said, keeping her tone calm and casual even as her hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He was starting to relax, but she knew one wrong move or word from her would bring his defenses right back up.

Greg didn't offer any more conversation. The next time Sarah stole a glance at him, he was slumped back in the seat and his eyes were closed. She wasn't sure if he was actually asleep or just pretending. Regardless, she was relieved that he was no longer pressed up against the car door. She wasn't going to do anything that might cause him to return to that position.

* * *

House had been waiting for Sarah to explode. When the car door slammed he'd cringed away from her, feeling his eyes sting. He could hear his father's voice in his head, berating him for his weakness, and he waited for Sarah to join in. She had to be furious with him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she said, her voice quiet and gentle.

"M'okay," he managed, blinking back tears. He didn't turn from the window.

"I brought you a Coke," Sarah said. He didn't move. A minute later she started the car and moved back onto the highway. He blew out a shaky breath, feeling himself unclench a little, surprised and then filled with reluctant gratitude for her lack of reaction. A few minutes later he shifted in the seat, suddenly aware of his thirst. The bottle sat in the cup-holder and he reached out for it, draining nearly half of it at once.

"Thanks," he muttered, still not daring to look over at Sarah.

"No problem," she answered lightly. He felt himself relax a little more and leaned back. His eyes were burning and he shut them, sinking even deeper into the seat. He didn't want to sleep, but the car was warm and the hum of the engine was steady. He dropped off.

His dreams were not the nightmares he'd expected. Instead of reliving one of his father's punishments, he was pushing through a crowd, searching for Sarah. Each time he caught a glimpse of her, someone stepped in between them. Wilson was there, looking disgusted and angry. Cuddy looked appalled while Lucas was chuckling. His father was glowering with rage and his mother shook her head in disappointment. Each time he caught another glimpse of Sarah, she was farther and farther away. He fought back a rising sense of panic.

"Greg." A soft voice penetrated the dream and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Greg, we're here." He opened his eyes reluctantly and for a second he knew a surge of relief. Sarah was right there, her touch light but firm. The reprieve evaporated a second later however as he realized that they were at Mayfield. He drew back.

"I'm awake," he said, looking away from her. They were in the parking lot closest to Nolan's office, the same one he'd used the few times he'd come here for appointments after his release. He was surprised; he'd expected to be out front, where Wilson had dropped him off for his admission. He looked over to Sarah, trying to assess her motive for this action.

"Dr. Nolan said he'd meet us back here. Is that him?" She nodded toward the building. House turned his head to find Nolan standing at the side entrance.

"Yeah," House said, feeling his stomach clench. He took a shaky breath and reached for the door handle. Sarah got out and he shivered at the blast of cold air. She came around to meet him as he levered himself to his feet. He frowned. Part of him didn't want her to go in, but another part was grateful for her presence. She fell into step at his side as he warred with himself.

Nolan came forward to meet them. "Hello, Greg," he said with a nod of greeting. His face and voice were carefully neutral. He turned to Sarah and held out his hand. "You must be Sarah. I'm Darryl Nolan." Sarah took his hand and offered a tentative smile.

"Hello," she said.

"I'm not sure how long Greg and I will be. You're welcome in the waiting room, of course, or if you'd prefer, I can give you directions into town. There may not be much open other than a few fast food restaurants, but you could get a meal."

"I'll be fine here," Sarah said. "As long as I'm not in the way."

"Not at all." Nolan moved to open the door for them, guiding them to his waiting area. House could smell coffee brewing but the thought of drinking any made him feel sick. His heart began to pound, the sound filling his ears, as his chest grew tight. He could see Nolan speaking to Sarah; she shook her head at whatever he said, maintaining a polite smile, and dropped into a couch in the waiting area. Nolan waved House toward his office. House moved forward, fighting back a sense of dread.

* * *

Thirteen bit back a groan when she saw Chase emerge from the elevator. She heard Foreman's sharp intake of breath. When she looked at him, he was glowering. She glanced at Chase, taking in his dismayed expression. _So much for keeping this quiet_, she thought.

Chase came forward, his steps slowing as he neared them. His gaze moved back and forth as he tried to watch both her and Foreman at the same time.

"Foreman," he said, nodding politely as he reached them. He gave Thirteen a nervous smile.

"What are you doing here, Chase?" Foreman demanded. Thirteen felt herself bristle. He had no right to sound so possessive.

"That's not any of your business," she said tersely, speaking before Chase could answer. Foreman ignored her, his gaze fixed on Chase.

"Are you two… _together_?" Foreman sounded disgusted by the thought. "You're still married, for pity's sake!"

"Not for much longer," Chase replied. "Cameron served me with papers Wednesday."

"I can see you took a lot of time to mourn. Did you ask Remy out that same evening or did you wait a few days?"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Thirteen demanded, causing both men to look at her. "I am not a piece of meat for the two of you to fight over."

"I'm sorry," Chase said. Foreman glared at him.

"Does she know _why_ Cameron's divorcing you?" Foreman demanded, and Chase blanched.

"That's enough," Thirteen said, stepping between the two men. "You made your choice when you fired me. You have no right to pry into my personal life."

"Remy…"

"And you can stop calling me that, too."

"I came here to apologize…"

Thirteen cut him off. "We've already had this conversation and there really isn't anything more to say. I'd like you to leave now."

"Fine." Foreman glared at her for a second before spinning on his heel and stalking to the elevator. Once the doors opened for him Thirteen turned away, motioning for Chase to precede her into the apartment. She was shaking from adrenalin and anger.

"Are you ok?" Chase asked as soon as she shut the door. "You're trembling."

"I'm fine," Thirteen said. "I'm just furious."

"So much for keeping things quiet," Chase said with a nervous chuckle.

"We never had a chance at that," Thirteen said. "Yesterday, Taub suspected. And House knew you'd be waiting for me."

"Oh." Chase looked crestfallen.

"We knew it wouldn't take long for House to figure it out," Thirteen said, fighting back a sense of aggravation that she knew had nothing to do with the man standing before her. She was angry at Foreman, not Chase.

"I guess I was hoping we might have a little more time," Chase said. "Foreman…"

"He has no right to be angry," Thirteen said.

"We're friends, sort of. You're his ex." Chase shrugged.

"So, you're violating some kind of guy code by dating me? That's ridiculous."

"I guess." Chase shrugged again. He still looked nervous and Thirteen remembered Foreman's taunt. _Does she know __why__ Cameron's divorcing you? _he'd asked, and Chase had gone pale. According to the rumor mill at the hospital, Chase had been a mess even before Cameron had left. Foreman seemed to be implying that whatever had happened had also driven a wedge between Chase and Cameron. He seemed to think that whatever it was would also drive her away.

"Does it bother you that I'm still married to Cameron?" Chase asked, interrupting her reverie.

"No," Thirteen said. "The two of you are getting divorced."

"Ok," Chase said, nodding. He still looked nervous and suddenly Thirteen was afraid that he was going to tell her whatever it was that Foreman had been hinting at. She wasn't sure that she wanted to know, and she certainly didn't want him to feel trapped into telling her.

"Look, let's forget about Foreman. Let's do lunch like we planned and have our day together. We'll have to deal with people at the hospital tomorrow but there's nothing we can accomplish by worrying about them now." Thirteen reached out to catch one of Chase's hands. He smiled tentatively at her.

"Alright. Where would you like to go?"

* * *

Sarah watched Greg and Dr. Nolan disappear through the door into Nolan's office. Her gaze roamed around the waiting room. It looked just like any other doctor's waiting room, cluttered with chairs and end tables. Months-old magazines were spread across the coffee table in front of the couch she'd chosen, but out-dated reports on celebrity romances didn't appeal to her. She was too restless to sit and read.

Sarah got to her feet, pulling the empty prescription bottle from her pocket and frowning at the label. Her free hand clenched into a fist as she read Wilson's name once more. _Damn him!_ she thought. Part of her relished the thought of confronting Wilson with the evidence, letting him know that she was aware of his role in enabling Greg's addiction. Another part of her felt that it would be better to show it to Dr. Nolan; surely if he'd known that Wilson had prescribed the drugs, he wouldn't have sent Greg to live with him upon his release from the hospital. Was it even ethical for Wilson to prescribe for his friend?

Sarah exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart and shaking hands. As much as she longed to use this ace in the hole, her priority was helping Greg. Battling with Wilson might not be helpful to Greg, who still considered the man his friend. She didn't want to put Greg in a position where he felt he had to choose between the two of them. He needed to come to his own conclusions. Sarah shoved the pill bottle back into her pocket and resumed her lap around the waiting room.

She'd finished her third circuit when the enormity of the situation hit her. Tears filled her eyes and she dropped back onto the couch, pressing her fist to her mouth. Intellectually, she'd known that addicts often made mistakes in their efforts to recover. It was one thing to know the statistics, however, and quite another to experience it first-hand with someone she cared about. Greg had slipped. He said he only took one pill but it was a relapse nonetheless. What would have happened if she hadn't turned up this morning? Would he have taken more pills?

"I don't know if I can do this," Sarah whispered, wiping away tears. She wasn't sure she'd be able to tell if Greg started using again, at least not at first. She wanted to believe that he'd cleaned out his apartment, that the bottle she'd emptied had been his only stash at the office, but feared she was being naïve. Wilson's taunt of _Addicts lie_ replayed in her head. She could search his place, but she wouldn't even know where to start looking. His office couldn't be investigated without someone at the hospital figuring out what was going on, and she didn't know what would happen if Cuddy found out about Greg's slip. A fresh batch of tears started and she buried her face in her hands.

* * *

House took a seat in Nolan's office and waited for the interrogation to begin. His heart was still pounding in his ears. Nolan settled into the chair across from him, his face calm.

"Are you admitting me?" House blurted, hating the waver he couldn't keep out of his voice.

"Do you need to be admitted, Greg?" Nolan asked. House tried to snort in derision – he was tired of his questions being answered by questions – but it came out sounding more like a sob.

"I'm not reflecting to upset you, Greg. I need to know – are you a danger to yourself or others?"

"I'm not suicidal," House muttered, looking past Nolan to stare at the wall.

"Ok." There was no hint of skepticism in Nolan's voice. "Why don't you tell me what happened yesterday?"

"Cuddy called me in for a case. She didn't need me – there was nothing mysterious about it – but the patient was a donor's grandson and the donor wanted the hospital's best doctor."

"You were frustrated because she brought you in just to accommodate the donor."

"She didn't need me," House said. The image of Shawn struggling in the ice came back to him. He felt his chest growing tight again.

"Let's back up," Nolan said. "It was a week ago today when we talked last. You were out of the hospital and were planning to return to work on Monday. Were you able to do that?"

"Yes," House said. "The team worked on charting. Thirteen took on my clinic hours and Cuddy rearranged the schedule so that my time will be covered while I'm in this sling." He remembered the way he'd snapped at Sarah that evening and felt a fresh wave of shame come over him. Why did she put up with him? If she was smart, she would just leave him here.

Nolan pushed on, taking him through the week, and House felt some of his tension ease as he recalled his apology to Sarah on Tuesday evening and her invitation to spend Christmas Eve together. The tightness started to return when he remembered his panic over Chase on Thursday morning. He tried to gloss over the incident, but Nolan stopped him.

"You asked Dr. Hadley to find Dr. Chase. You were worried about him?"

"I was… concerned." His breathing was growing more constricted. He looked away from Nolan's concerned gaze to stare at the wall again.

"You're shaking, Greg."

"I… I couldn't stop thinking about Kutner," House said, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He blinked furiously, hoping to keep them back. Drawing breath was painful now. He sagged back in the chair and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt a few tears slip down his cheeks.

"I want to check your pulse," Nolan said quietly and a second later House felt a warm hand on his wrist. He resisted the impulse to jerk away and tried to focus on regaining normal respiration instead. After a few minutes the tightness had eased. Nolan's hand was clasping him.

"Did you lose count?" House asked, opening his eyes to glare at the psychiatrist, who immediately released his hold.

"Would you like some water?" Nolan asked, getting to his feet. He moved to a mini-fridge in a corner of the room and pulled out two bottles. House took the one offered to him but didn't open it.

"Sarah…"

"I asked Dr. Beasley to look in on her," Nolan said, returning to his seat. He studied House for a moment before speaking again. "How is Sarah?"

"She had a nightmare about me being dead," House said, grateful not to be returning to the subject of his panic over Chase. "I don't think it's the first one she's had."

"She told you about this one?"

"She… was relieved to see me when I showed up at her apartment in the morning."

"She cares about you." The other man's voice was quiet, with a gentle note of inquiry.

"I guess," House said, looking away from Nolan's assessing gaze.

"That concerns you."

He gave an impatient sigh. "I don't want to hurt her."


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: You already know that I do not own House but I'm supposed to keep on saying it. Many thanks (as always) to my awesome beta, Brighid45, for her help and encouragement. Thanks also for the reviews, alert sign-ups, favorites, etc. I am Pathetic Review Junkie and appreciate the "fix." :) **

After a few minutes, Sarah lifted her head from her hands. She spotted a box of tissues on a nearby end-table and snatched up a few of them. She was wiping her face when the door from the hall into the waiting room opened. A slender blonde woman stood there.

"Hi," she said, giving Sarah a small smile. "I'm Dr. Beasley."

"Hi," Sarah said, sitting up straighter. "I'm Sarah."

"Dr. Nolan asked me to check on you, see if there was anything you needed."

"I'm fine," Sarah said quickly, hating the way she was sniffling.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" Dr. Beasley asked.

Sarah started to shake her head but changed her mind. "Is there a restroom I could use?" She had to look awful, with her eyes swollen from crying; maybe if she splashed some cold water on her face, she could minimize the damage.

"Of course. I've got one next to my office." Sarah rose to her feet and followed the blonde woman out into the hall. Her office was a few doors down from Dr. Nolan's. It was a small space, with a metal institutional desk and a pair of uncomfortable-looking chairs. Sarah hoped she didn't see patients in here.

"The restroom's over there," Dr. Beasley said, waving Sarah toward a door in one corner of the room. "I'm going to make some tea; I'll be right back." She ducked back out into the hallway and Sarah made her way into the tiny half-bath. The lighting was terrible but it was enough to see her eyes were puffy and her face blotchy from tears. She turned on the water, unsure what to expect from the antiquated faucet. When it came out clear, she splashed some onto her face. _Get a grip,_ she told herself, splashing more water. _Pull yourself together and get back out there. _

She emerged from the restroom a few minutes later. Dr. Beasley was sitting in one of the visitors' chairs, holding a steaming mug. Another sat on the desk in front of the empty seat. The blonde nodded at it.

"I brought you a cup. Hope I didn't make it too sweet."

"Thank you," Sarah said. She didn't really want to sit and talk with Dr. Beasley but didn't want to be rude either. She sat and reached for the mug. She was dismayed to find her grip was shaky and wound up lifting it with both hands. The warm ceramic felt good. She took a cautious swallow of tea and discovered it was strong and sweet.

The chair beside her squeaked loudly as Dr. Beasley shifted position. "These things are awful, aren't they?" she said with a soft laugh. "I guess that's why I don't get many visitors."

"I take it you don't see patients in here," Sarah said, trying to settle in her own seat. A few sips of tea left her feeling a little steadier.

"This is where I do my paperwork," Dr. Beasley said. "Darryl… Dr. Nolan is the only one of us who sees clients on an outpatient basis, which is why he gets the nice waiting room."

"Ok," Sarah said, feeling uncertain what she should say to this woman. Had she treated Greg during his stay here? Did she know that Greg was with Dr. Nolan now? She shifted in the seat again. "I don't want to keep you from your work."

"You aren't keeping me from anything." Dr. Beasley smiled. It looked genuine, not forced or falsely friendly. "I thought you might need someone to talk to."

"I was feeling… overwhelmed," Sarah admitted. "I'm better now."

"Good," Dr. Beasley said.

* * *

When Nolan didn't speak immediately, House dared to shift his gaze back to him. The psychiatrist looked thoughtful, his fingers steepled before his face.

"How would you hurt her?" he asked.

"I'm not who she thinks I am."

"Who does she think you are?" Nolan sounded interested, nothing more.

"She…If she really knew me, she'd get the hell away from me."

"What doesn't she know, Greg?"

"I'm going to screw this up, and she'll get hurt."

"You'll make mistakes, Greg. You're human. She knows that. It doesn't mean…"

House cut Nolan off, glaring at him. "You said it yourself. I haven't had relationships – I've screwed all of them up."

"I never said you _couldn't_ have a relationship. I know trust doesn't come easily to you…"

"I trust her. I…" House looked away from Nolan's gaze, feeling embarrassed. He'd blurted out the words without thinking. It was a gut reaction to the doctor's continued probing; he wished he could take it back.

"You don't trust yourself."

"Look at my track record! I pushed Stacy away twice. I danced around things with Cuddy for so long that she gave up on me. Lydia didn't stay. Cameron says I'm poison."

"You're focusing on your failures again."

"There are so many to choose from," House said drily.

"What about Wilson?"

"What about him?" House's shoulder began to ache as he grew tense.

"How are things between the two of you?"

"Fine," House said. The pain in his shoulder increased and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"What does Wilson say about your relationship with Sarah?" Nolan asked and House cringed, remembering their conversation in Sarah's kitchen. He still didn't know how much she'd overheard.

"He thought I was using her to make Cuddy jealous," he said.

"And when you told him you weren't?"

"He didn't believe me."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Sarah. Do you think Wilson resents that?"

"He says he's not jealous."

"But?"

"He accused me of spending all my time with her." House swallowed nervously, remembering the argument in his office. "I think he hired Lucas."

"He's having Sarah investigated?"

"Yes."

"Does she know?"

"They had an argument yesterday. He said he'd gone to my apartment to look for my pills. Sarah came in and he said she accused him of trying to drive me back to the pills and of hiring Lucas to follow her." House shook his head, remembering the way Wilson said he'd thought Sarah was going to hit him. He could see Sarah getting angry, but not violent.

"Have you talked to Sarah about this?"

"No." House felt his chest grow tight at the thought. What could he say to her? "She… I didn't go home last night and this morning…"

"What happened this morning?"

"Sarah came to the hospital. She saw the bottle on my desk. She…" House hesitated. The tightness in his chest was increasing. "She should have been angry."

"But she wasn't."

House shook his head. "No."

"Did you spend the night at the hospital to monitor your patient?"

"I stayed to wait for some lab results." The image of Shawn in the ice returned. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Something happened with your patient that upset you."

"He had a high fever. We… had to ice him down." House flinched away from the understanding in Nolan's face. He stared at a spot on the wall and tried to regain control of his breathing. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes and they increased as he grew frustrated. Was there nothing he could talk about without turning into a blubbering idiot? _Weak!_ his father's voice sneered in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm checking your pulse again, Greg." A warm hand gripped his wrist. House wanted to pull away but couldn't find the strength.

"M'okay," he gasped.

"Was it this bad yesterday?" Nolan asked gently. House nodded, not trusting his voice. "A flashback?"

"No. Just… remembering." Nolan gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze.

"Take your time."

* * *

Thirteen watched Chase pick at his food. They were sitting in a back booth at a restaurant not far from the hospital. Chase had been moving the food around on his plate for the past five minutes but he'd barely eaten any of it. He'd been tense since their encounter with Foreman. When he put his fork down and sighed, Thirteen braced herself. She still wasn't sure that she wanted him to reveal whatever it was that Foreman had been hinting at.

"I was thinking about going by the hospital," he said.

"What?" Thirteen was startled. This was not what she had expected Chase to say.

"I want to check the cultures."

"House stayed behind to check the cultures. He would've called us if it had turned out to be something other than meningococcal meningitis."

"Everything happened so fast yesterday. And if House _was_ having a panic attack, maybe he made a mistake. If there's going to be an M&M on this thing then we need to get ready."

"You really think they'd do that for a simple case of meningitis?"

"It's a chance to go after House," Chase said. When Thirteen remained skeptical, he pressed on. "Look, even he thought we might have missed something. It can't hurt to take another look."

"Fine, but we're just going through the file," Thirteen said. She didn't like the idea of people at the hospital using the M&M to go after House, but she wasn't prepared to sneak into the morgue.

"Just the file," Chase promised.

"Ok," Thirteen said. Relief flooded Chase's face and he smiled. They finished their lunch quickly, and Thirteen was glad to see Chase actually eat. He seemed energized by the decision.

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Once they arrived, they made their way straight to the fourth floor. The first thing Thirteen noticed was that the blinds in House's office were half-closed. She shot an inquiring glance at Chase, who shrugged.

"Do you think he spent the night here?" he asked as she made her way to the connecting door.

"He's not here now," Thirteen said, glancing into the office before moving to stand beside Chase at the conference table. He had Shawn's file open in front of him and was frowning down at it.

"The test results are missing," he said.

"Maybe they're in House's office," Thirteen said. Chase nodded and stepped around her. Thirteen flipped through the file one more time, but she didn't see the results either. She walked over to join Chase and found him standing in front of House's desk, staring down at a book.

"Did you find them?" Thirteen asked. Chase started, apparently unaware that she was beside him.

"No," he said, moving around behind the desk. His eyes didn't leave the book.

"What are you staring at?" Thirteen asked, turning the volume toward her; it was a reference text on lupus. She looked up at Chase, arching a brow at him. With a sigh, he reached out and opened it. Thirteen stared in surprise at the hollow cut into the pages.

"House used to keep a stash of Vicodin in here," Chase said.

"You think he's using again?"

"I don't think it's a good sign that this book is out."

* * *

Sarah had been grateful when Dr. Beasley had returned her to Nolan's waiting room. The tea had been just what she needed to restore herself, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the psychiatrist wanted her to talk. Having just got herself under control, the last thing Sarah wanted was to wind up in tears again.

In the waiting room she settled back on the couch and flipped through one of the old magazines. She scanned the articles, not really absorbing anything that was said, and mostly studied the pictures. She was very aware of the empty pill bottle in her pocket and still didn't know what to do with it.

When the door to Dr. Nolan's office opened, Sarah jumped nervously to her feet. She was surprised when only Dr. Nolan came out into the waiting room. The psychiatrist left the door open and motioned for Sarah to resume her seat on the couch.

"Greg will be out in a few minutes, but I wanted to speak with you," Nolan said. He took a seat next to her and Sarah shifted to face him. She could feel her heart start to pound and swallowed, her nerves jangling.

"Is he going to be alright?" she asked.

"You got him here, talking to me," Nolan said calmly. "That was the best thing you could do."

"Does he need to stay?"

"I'm willing to send him with you, on a few conditions. His apartment and office need to be searched before he goes back into either of them."

"He can stay at my place tonight," Sarah said quickly. She could feel the pill bottle pressing into her hip and shifted on the couch.

"I also want to talk with him during the week by phone and continue to meet with him face-to-face on weekends. Here's my card. You can call me at any time."

"Ok," Sarah said, nodding. She tucked the card into her pocket. Movement in the doorway caught her eye and she lifted her gaze to see Greg there, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked exhausted. Sarah gave him a tentative smile and he glanced away from her, shifting his focus to Nolan.

"Call Chase," he said quietly. "For the search."

"Ok," Nolan said, getting to his feet. Sarah stood too. Greg flicked his eyes in her direction before looking down at his feet. Sarah watched Greg as the analyst obtained Chase's number and established that they would talk tomorrow evening at 6; his shoulders were bowed, the lines in his face seemed to be etched deeper and the shadows under his eyes were more pronounced. Sarah felt butterflies returning to her stomach. Nolan might have thought that she'd done the right thing, but she wasn't sure Greg agreed with him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: Don't own, yadda yadda yadda. Once again, thanks to my awesome beta, Brighid45 for her help. If you haven't checked out her Treatment series, you're missing out! The fifth story, Voices Carry, is under way now. As always, thank you for reading and reviewing and signing up for alerts, etc. **

House jerked himself awake for the third time. The car was warm and the engine's hum a steady, soothing drone. He felt drained from the session but he did not want to sleep.

He'd left Nolan's office reluctantly, fighting off an irrational urge to stay there. He'd felt like he was moving through pudding, each step requiring tremendous effort. Sarah had glanced up as he entered the waiting room. He'd noted her red-rimmed, puffy eyes and quickly looked away, his stomach twisting with guilt. He could sense the weight of her gaze as he'd told Nolan to call Chase for the search and confirmed their phone appointment for the following evening.

Sarah had gone to start the car, leaving him alone with Nolan for a few minutes. He hadn't protested when the psychiatrist helped him into his coat and accompanied him to the side entrance.

"Greg, you will get through this," Nolan had told him quietly as they'd watched Sarah move the car closer to the door. House had nodded in silence. Just standing was a huge effort; he didn't think he could manage speech. He'd left without saying anything more.

"I'm going to stop for gas." Sarah spoke quietly, bringing him out of his reverie. "Do you want anything?" House realized they were pulling into the same station they'd stopped at on their way to Mayfield.

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Ok," Sarah replied. "Let me know if you change your mind." She pulled up to a pump. House winced at the blast of cold air that rushed into the car when she got out. He turned his head for a moment to watch her. The wind whipped her hair around her face; he wondered how she could see what she was doing. He turned away and let his head rest against the seat-back. A few minutes later his eyes slipped shut.

_The ground under the big oak is littered with dried leaves, though half of them remain on the tree, waiting for spring's arrival to drop. The wind rustles through them, sounding like dozens of little animals scurrying along. He considers making a pile of the leaves and burying himself in it but the first scoop starts him sneezing. He sinks back against the tree trunk, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back tears. He doesn't want to look at the warm pool of light spilling from the kitchen window. He knows it won't get really cold tonight – not out of the 50s certainly – but he's shivering already._

_ He isn't sure what makes him look up but when he lifts his head from his knees the light from the kitchen is gone. His stomach gives a rumble; he missed dinner too. He shifts under the tree, trying to move away from a shallow root that's poking him, and that's when he sees the dog. It is standing a few feet from him, wagging its tail tentatively. When he says nothing, it comes a little closer, tail still moving back and forth. He studies it._

_ It's a golden retriever. He remembers seeing it in the neighbor's backyard, usually stuck on a tie-rope. The dog had always looked sad to him, pacing the worn dirt around its dog-house. Looking at it now he can see that the animal is a little too thin and that there are mats in its fur. _

_ "Hi," he says softly, and the skinny tail moves a little faster. It steps closer and he puts out a hand slowly to touch its neck, patting it gently. The dog comes closer still and he pats it more, feeling the tears he's been fighting to keep at bay welling up in his eyes. _

_ In the morning the sun wakes him. He is still under the tree, the dog lying beside him. Its tail thumps the ground as he sits up and he reaches out to pet it again, feeling the ribs too clearly through its thick fur. For a moment he imagines what it would be like to have this dog as his own, to be able to bathe it and brush its coat and take it for walks. _

_ Movement from the house brings an end to his day-dream and he gets hastily to his feet. The dog stands too, looking from him to the house and back again, almost as if it is asking 'what's going on?'_

_ "Go home," he hisses, terrified of his father's reaction. The dog stares at him, cocking its head to one side in puzzlement. "Go!" he repeats, his tone more insistent, and he points now at the fence between the two yards. There is a hole in the back corner and that must be where the animal came through. The dog glances at the house, then to him and gives a sigh. It starts on its way to the corner, head down and tail tucked. He watches it go, feeling a wave of sadness crashing over him._

"Greg?" Sarah's soft voice woke him. For a minute House was disoriented. The dream had felt so real he swore he could smell the dog. He found that instead of his backyard he was in the passenger seat of Sarah's car, a soft blanket draped around him. "We're home."

"'k," he muttered. He still felt the crushing sorrow from the end of his dream. He shifted in the seat, fumbling under the blanket for his seat belt.

"I'll come around and get that blanket out of your way," Sarah said quickly, starting to open her door. A blare from a car's horn caused her to pull it shut; a second later a sedan sped past them. House stared after it, feeling sick inside. _If that driver hadn't honked…_ He shook his head, hoping to push the thought away.

"Well, that was stupid," Sarah muttered. "Let's try this again while actually looking." She checked the street and opened her door once more, making it around to his side without incident. By then he'd managed to find the release for his seat belt and was disentangling it from the blanket when Sarah opened his door. She removed the blanket, hastily folding and tucking it under her arm, then stepped back to give him room to get out of the car. He wished he could move faster as he was painfully aware of the cold, but his leg was stiff after so many hours in one position. He got to his feet at last and Sarah closed the door, allowing him to precede her up the steps into the apartment building.

* * *

With a sigh, Thirteen reached out to shut the lupus reference book. Chase looked up at her, startled.

"I'm going to go get the lab results," she said firmly.

"That's it?" he said.

"Whether House has slipped or not, he doesn't deserve to have people coming after him over this kid's death. We need to prep for the M&M."

Chase regarded her for a minute before nodding. "Ok."

"I'll be right back," Thirteen said.

The cultures confirmed the diagnosis of meningococcal meningitis. They read through the patient history, looking for any suggestion of an underlying condition that could've weakened Shawn's immune system. Thirteen quickly grew frustrated, seeing nothing that suggested there was any such condition.

"Can't find anything here," she said. "Assuming this is accurate, we didn't miss a thing."

"Sometimes patients ..." Whatever Chase was about to say was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned at the screen for a second before answering it. "Hello? ... This is he ... Oh ... Really? ... Uh-huh ... I can do that ... Ok ... Ok." Chase moved to the desk in the corner and found a post-it note. Thirteen watched as he scrawled a number on it. "Ok, I've got it ... I'll do that ... Right ... I'll call you as soon as it's done ... Ok, bye." Chase ended the call and glanced at his phone for a second, as if he could hardly believe the conversation he'd just had. When he looked away it was to fix his gaze on the bookcase. Thirteen was twitching with impatience, wanting to know what the conversation was about. When Chase continued his 1,000-yard stare without speaking, she spoke up.

"Who was that?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

"Dr. Nolan," Chase said, switching his gaze from the books to her.

"House's psychiatrist?"

"Yeah. He…actually, I don't know if I should tell you what he wanted."'

"Is House ok?"

"I…I'm not sure."

"Chase…" Thirteen let her voice trail off, exasperated. She could understand his concern for respecting House's privacy, but he'd told her enough to leave her feeling truly worried.

Chase sighed. "Nolan told me House's office and apartment need to be searched for drugs, and that House had authorized him to ask me to do it."

"Oh my God," Thirteen whispered, stunned. "You were right. He must've slipped."

"Nolan didn't say that but, yeah, that'd be my guess." Chase stepped to the shelves and began to scan titles. Thirteen got to her feet and joined him there.

"Why did House authorize _you_?" she asked.

"I guess he figured I would have a better idea of where to look," Chase said. "I have worked with him the longest of everyone on the team."

"That's true," Thirteen said, taking down a book on autoimmune diseases. She opened it but found nothing. "I would have thought he'd ask Wilson though."

"My mother was a drunk," Chase said, reaching out for a second text. "When I was a kid, I took care of her. I guess House figures I know how to think like an addict." Chase flipped the book open, revealing a hollow cut into the pages. He took out the bottle hidden there, holding it up to count the pills inside it, replaced it and set the book on the desk. Thirteen noticed it was a standard oncology reference.

"Chase, I'm sorry." She felt how inadequate the words were, but she didn't know what else to say.

Chase shrugged. "I was just a kid. I couldn't really help my mother. At least this time there's something I can do." He reached for a book and opened it to reveal another hiding place, then set it on top of the first stash on the desk. Thirteen frowned. It was also an oncology text. She spotted another on the shelves and reached for it, finding a cut-out and stash of pills.

"I guess House figured he didn't need oncology references with Wilson next door," she said drily.

"Look at the prescribing physician," Chase said, taking down yet another book. Thirteen lifted the bottle. The label listed the prescribing physician as J. Wilson. Shaking her head, she stuffed the pills in their hiding place and added the book to the growing pile.

* * *

When Sarah returned to the car after paying for her gas, Greg was asleep. He didn't react at all to her opening and closing the car door. She put the bottles of Coke she'd purchased into the cup-holders and studied him for a moment.

There were deep shadows under his eyes and even in sleep his face was drawn, as if he was in pain. Sarah fought the urge to reach out and caress his cheek. She didn't think he'd welcome the contact right now and she didn't want to wake him. Instead she shifted to retrieve a blanket from the back, draping it around Greg carefully. She considered reclining his seat but was afraid the movement would wake him.

Greg slept all the way to Princeton. Once they were parked on Baker Street, fortunately in a spot close to their front door, Sarah reached out reluctantly.

"Greg," she said quietly, not wanting to startle him. "We're home." He blinked in surprise, taking a moment to look at his surroundings.

"'k," he mumbled, shifting in the seat.

"I'll come around and get that blanket out of your way." Sarah moved quickly, not wanting Greg to trip over it. She had just started to open her door when the blare from a car's horn caused her to pull it shut. She watched as a sedan sped past them, moving too fast on the narrow street. Her heart was pounding. If she'd been a half-second slower, she would've lost the door or worse. She felt a mixture of aggravation at the driver for going too fast and at herself as well for failing to pay attention before getting out of the car.

"Well, that was stupid," she muttered. "Let's try this again while actually looking." She checked the street and made it around to Greg's side without incident. When she opened his door she found that he was disentangling the blanket from his seat belt. She removed it, hastily folding and tucking it under her arm before stepping back to give him room to get out of the car. He moved slowly to his feet, his leg obviously stiff and sore. Sarah closed the door and let him precede her up the steps into their building.

In her apartment, Maggie was jumping on the baby gate and barking, her tail wagging furiously.

"Hi, Baby," Sarah said, waiting for Greg to get inside before moving the gate. As soon as she did Maggie sprang forward, hopping against Greg's good leg. Her tail was a blur and she let out little yips of excitement. Greg froze. He stared down at her, his face full of sadness. Sarah moved forward and quickly scooped up the little dog, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. Greg looked so lost, but when she glanced back at him his face was expressionless. He made his way to the couch as she held the squirming dog.

"I'm going to take Maggie out," Sarah said, feeling butterflies filling her stomach. She was going to have to take Greg's keys. He wasn't supposed to go into his apartment until after it had been searched.

"Ok," Greg said, not looking at her. He slouched on the couch, still wearing his coat.

"I--I need your keys," Sarah said nervously. Greg looked up at her, his eyes narrowing in a glare. She met his gaze, trying not to cringe, and after a moment he looked away.

"Fine," he muttered, pulling the keys from his pocket. He tossed them in her general direction. With her arms full of Maggie she didn't try to catch them. They clattered to the floor. Sarah stooped to retrieve them.

"I'll get you some clothes when I come back from walking Maggie," she said quietly, tucking the keys into her pocket. "Is there anything else you need?" Greg didn't answer and after a minute Sarah got the dog into her harness and left. She was grateful to escape the tension in the apartment.

When she stepped outside, she was surprised to see snow falling. The wind had kicked up and her face stung as the flakes sprayed into it. She quickly put on her hood and ducked her head. She was grateful that Maggie didn't insist on going all the way to the park, instead squatting on a patch of lawn in front of an apartment building half-way down the block.

Greg's place was dark and smelled musty. Sarah let Maggie off the leash and the dog ran around, sniffing in all the corners. Sarah found a duffel bag in the closet and went down the hall to the bedroom. She retrieved pajamas, socks, and boxers from the dresser. He had a change of clothes for tomorrow already in the bag she'd brought to the hospital that morning. She stopped in the bathroom and got the toothbrush and toothpaste from the counter.

In the living room Sarah set aside the bag and moved to retrieve Maggie from under the piano. As she passed by the phone her eyes were drawn to the blinking light on his answering machine. The display showed he had five messages. Sarah stared at it. She didn't want to invade Greg's privacy any further but Nolan had said he couldn't return to the apartment until it had been searched. Maybe he could access the messages remotely.

When she returned to her own apartment a few minutes later, Greg was still on the couch in his coat. He didn't look up to acknowledge her return, only moving when Maggie leapt up beside him. He started at her arrival, wincing, and then reached out to pat her.

"I think I have everything you need," Sarah said, stepping forward with the bag. Greg barely glanced at it.

"It's fine."

"You had some messages on your answering machine," Sarah said. Greg's head jerked up. "I didn't play them – I just saw the display."

"'k," he said, looking away from her.

"Are you hungry? There's goulash left from the other night. I can reheat it, or we could order in…"

"I don't care."

"I'm going to reheat the goulash then," Sarah said. She was rapidly moving past nervousness and into irritation. She stalked toward the kitchen, slinging the duffel bag into the wing-back chair as she passed it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Don't own House. If I did...well, there would be fewer re-runs and fewer gaps between new episodes, that's for sure! Anyway, let me thank once more my awesome beta, Brighid45, for her continued help and encouragement. I also want to remind everyone that here in story-land, it is only December 27th. I have to keep reminding myself of this fact as I watch the first robins hopping past. **

House entered Sarah's apartment slowly, his leg throbbing with every move. Maggie was jumping on the gate and letting out yips of excitement.

"Hi, Baby," Sarah said, going around him to set the gate aside. House took a few steps forward and Maggie jumped onto his good leg, her tail wagging like crazy. As Sarah gathered her up he looked at the little dog. A wave of sadness engulfed him as he remembered his dream. In vain he tried to bring his emotions under control. _Going to blubber like a baby __again__? _chided a voice in his head. He fought back a shudder as he made his way to the couch.

"I'm going to take Maggie out," Sarah said, sounding apprehensive.

"Ok." House didn't look at her. He sank onto the couch without bothering to take off his coat. Just the thought of removing it seemed like a tremendous effort.

"I need your keys," Sarah said. She sounded nervous. House looked up at her, frowning. She met his gaze head-on. After a moment he glanced away. _Of course she needs them. Nolan told her I wasn't supposed to go in there until after it's been searched._

"Fine," he muttered, pulling the keys from his pocket. He tossed them in her general direction. They clattered to the floor, the sound loud in the quiet apartment.

"I'll get you some clothes when I get back from walking Maggie," Sarah said. She retrieved the keychain and stood, her expression unreadable. "Is there anything else you need?" House said nothing. All he wanted was for her to let him alone so that he could compose himself. After a moment's pause Sarah got down Maggie's harness and took the dog out. When the door closed behind them House sank deeper into the couch, relaxing a fraction. Without conscious direction his thoughts drifted once more to his dream.

The vividness of the memory surprised him. He hadn't thought about that night in years, and still couldn't remember what he'd done that time to warrant being banished to the yard. It hadn't been the cold that bothered him on those nights but the feeling of isolation. He missed the sounds of his parents going to bed, the occasional clandestine "good night" from his mother, and even his father's snoring. The neighbor's dog had seemed like a kindred spirit, a fellow misfit, and its company had made the night bearable. He'd hated sending the animal away in the morning, but he was sure his father would harm the dog if he caught it in the yard.

House was so lost in his memories that he didn't even notice Sarah's return. He only became aware she was back when Maggie leapt up beside him. He started at the little dog's arrival, feeling a sharp pain shoot through his thigh, and then reached out to pat her.

"I think I have everything you need," Sarah said, stepping forward with a duffel bag. House glanced at it, not really caring what she'd brought.

"It's fine," he said.

"You had some messages on your answering machine," Sarah told him. House lifted his head to stare at her. She went on, her manner more hesitant. "I--I didn't play them – I just saw the display."

"'k," he said, looking away. Her nervousness annoyed him and also made him feel guilty, a combination he hated. He knew she was only trying to help, but he didn't know how to respond in a way that would ease the tension between them.

"Are you hungry? There's goulash left from the other night. I can reheat it, or we could order in…"

House cut her off. "I don't care." With his stomach twisting itself into knots, he didn't think he would be able to eat.

"I'm going to reheat the goulash then," Sarah said, a note of exasperation in her voice. She stalked toward the kitchen. House flinched when she slung the duffel bag into the wing-back chair with some force as she passed it. A moment later he heard her banging things around and muttering to herself. It was more than plain she was feeling a fair amount of anger at him and taking it out on the pots and pans. Maggie pressed up against him, looking worried. House stroked her, running his hand along her side.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, continuing to pet her. She leaned against him, her tail beating a slow rhythm against the couch. He thought back to the dog from his dream. He remembered going to the backyard the next afternoon, an old hair-brush in his pocket, and making his way to the hole in the fence. To his dismay, he found that his father had nailed chicken wire over the opening. He could look through and see the dog, but there was no way for him to reach it.

"The goulash is heating." Sarah's quiet voice startled him and he jumped, sending a flare of pain through his thigh. He watched as Sarah moved his duffel bag aside and dropped into the chair. Her earlier annoyance seemed to be gone, replaced by weariness. He stared at her in disbelief. She _should_ be angry at him. He'd done a stupid thing and now he was behaving like an ungrateful jerk. She should be yelling at him, kicking him out of her home, not warming up dinner and accommodating him while his apartment was searched.

"You're an idiot," he said on a surge of irritation. Did she have no sense of self-preservation at all? She was worse than that blasted golden retriever!

"I think I liked it better when you were being sullen," Sarah replied. There was an acerbic edge to her voice now. "In case you missed it, I'm trying to help you."

"Why?" he demanded. Sarah stared at him, clearly stunned by the question. When she answered him, the irritation was gone.

"I care about you." She said it in a matter of fact way that didn't fool him for a moment.

"You want to fix me," House replied scornfully.

Sarah shook her head. "That isn't what I said."

"It's what you're thinking."

"No it _isn't_." The exasperation was returning to Sarah's voice.

* * *

It took Chase and Thirteen nearly three hours to go through all the books in the conference room. They found six stashes of pills, each cut into a cancer text. When they were finished there they moved on to House's office. Chase started with the books there while Thirteen sat behind House's desk. She hesitated before opening the first drawer. She was reminded of searching Amber and Wilson's apartment, an eerie memory.

"Something wrong?" Chase asked.

"I just… feel like I'm invading his privacy."

"This is exactly like searching a patient's home," Chase told her. "Sometimes we have to invade their privacy to help them."

"I know." Thirteen sighed and reached out to open the first drawer.

They worked in silence. Thirteen emptied each section, checking for false bottoms, and then put everything back. She tried to make sure all the items were returned to the same order they'd been in originally. She slid the last drawer shut and turned to see Chase replacing a book.

"There's nothing here," she said. "Find anything?"

"No," Chase said. "There are no cancer references in here either."

"I'll check his chair," Thirteen said, getting up from the desk. She moved to the Eames chair and ran her hands along where the cushion-edges met. When she finished she sat down, looking around the office. House had several knick-knacks, but they wouldn't provide good hiding places. She ruled out the magic-eight-ball and the mortar and pestle. Her lips twitched as she stared at the red and gray ball, remembering the number of times they'd caught House tossing it around. She leaned out of the chair and retrieved the ball from the desk, rolling it in her hands. She looked up to see Chase smirking at her.

"House doesn't like people playing with his ball," he said. Thirteen laughed.

"He might not like _you_ doing it …" she began, but stopped mid-sentence when she got a good look at the balcony. Snow was falling rapidly and the railing was already coated. Chase turned, following her gaze, and let out a low whistle.

"Looks like we're getting that winter storm after all," he said. Thirteen stood and returned the ball to its resting place.

"How bad is it supposed to be?" she asked.

"Several inches, and lots of wind," Chase said. "I don't remember all the numbers."

"Are we done searching? We should probably leave before it gets any worse."

"Yeah, we're done. Let's take those books and head out."

"Ok." Thirteen followed Chase back into the conference room. She got into her coat and wished she'd brought her scarf and hat. The wind was blowing hard, at times sending the snow sideways. It was going to be a cold walk to the car.

* * *

Sarah stalked into the kitchen and jerked open the refrigerator door. She muttered to herself as she yanked the container of left-over goulash from the shelf, found a pan and banged it onto the stove. The goulash dropped into it in a lump and she attacked it with a large spoon, breaking it up so that it would heat properly.

She rummaged through the cabinets for a can of tomato juice, adding it to the pan to keep the food from drying out. Her movements were jerky and unnecessarily rough as she vented her frustration on the inanimate objects. She turned on the burner and loaded the container into the dishwasher, shutting it with another bang.

When everything was done and Sarah could stall no longer she stalked into the living room. Greg was on the couch and Maggie was leaning up against him, her tail thumping the cushions as he petted her. Sarah caught a glimpse of his face and felt all her aggravation leave in a rush as tears pricked her eyes. He wore the same sad, lost expression she'd seen when they reached the apartment.

"The goulash is heating," she said softly. She'd hoped not to startle Greg but he jerked at the sound of her voice, unable to hide a wince; no doubt his thigh was hurting. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved to the wing-back chair, setting his bag aside before dropping into the comfortable seat. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed by tiredness.

"You're an idiot," Greg announced.

"I think I liked it better when you were being sullen," Sarah said, feeling a spark of irritation returning. "In case you missed it, I'm trying to help you."

"Why?" Greg asked, his tone belligerent.

She stared at him in astonishment. "I care about you."

"You want to fix me," Greg scoffed.

"That isn't what I said."

"It's what you're thinking."

"No it _isn't._" She fought hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"Riiight. I'm addict. I'm a cripple. I'm at least twenty years older than you. And you think I'm perfect just the way I am." Greg's voice was practically dripping sarcasm. Sarah's heart was starting to pound even as butterflies filled her stomach. This conversation was an emotional mine-field. One wrong step and Greg would be out the door. She blew out a shaky sigh.

"You're a recovering addict with a bum leg. I know that. I also know that you're caring, intelligent, funny, compassionate…" Sarah stopped as Greg rose, his movements stiff. She couldn't tell if he was angry or in pain or both. Her heart was racing now and she thought she might be sick. She'd blown it. He was leaving.

"I'm too warm in this coat," Greg said in a soft, awkward tone, not looking at her. Sarah almost laughed with relief. She got quickly to her feet and moved to help him.

"The food will keep," she said, feeling a little bolder now that he was apparently planning to stay. "I could run a bath for you." She glanced back at him as she moved to hang up his coat. Their eyes met for a second before he glanced away, nodding. Sarah closed the closet door and collected the duffel bag from the floor, carrying it to the bathroom. She set out some towels for him and started the tub filling. When she looked up he was in the doorway, watching her.

"I'm still twenty years older," he said, limping in to stand beside her.

"Not twenty," Sarah said with a quick smile. "Fifteen, tops." Greg didn't return the smile but he did allow her to help him out of his sling and sports-coat. He started to undo the buttons on his shirt, wincing at the movement, and she reached out to get them for him. She helped ease the shirt off his shoulders and took a half-step back.

"Do you need anything?" she asked.

"I'll be fine."

"Ok." Sarah pulled the door shut behind her and went back to the kitchen. She turned down the stove and got out Maggie's dinner before heading into the living room where she slumped on the couch, her earlier exhaustion returning. She glanced at the VCR clock and was stunned to find it wasn't even 7pm yet. _It's going to be a long night_, she thought.

When Greg appeared twenty minutes later, he seemed to be moving easier. Sarah gave him a tentative smile as he sank into the wing-back chair.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"No," he said quietly, letting his head settle into the soft cushions. He looked exhausted.

"I'm going to take Maggie out and then we can go to bed," Sarah told him. He didn't budge as she got to her feet and collected the dog's harness. He stayed where he was, his eyes closed when she let herself out of the apartment a few minutes later.

The snow was still falling fast and the wind was blowing it into drifts against the buildings. Sarah pulled up her hood and ducked her head. Maggie seemed to have no desire to prolong their time outside. Once again she stopped at the first lawn they came to. As soon as the dog was done, Sarah scooped her up and hurried back home.

When she entered the apartment Greg was on his cell phone. He wasn't saying anything, just listening. Sarah got Maggie out of her harness, shrugged off her coat and turned from the closet to see Greg looking at her.

"Just a minute," he said and laid the phone against his chest. "It's Chase." He held the phone out and Sarah moved to take it.

"Hello?" she said, her voice a bit hesitant.

"Hi, Sarah," Chase said. "I was calling to let House know that we finished searching his office and the conference room."

"We?" asked Sarah, feeling her heart start to pound. Who had Chase been talking to?

"Thirteen… Remy, was with me when I got the call," Chase said. "She helped with the search."

"I see," Sarah said, feeling some relief. At least Chase hadn't told Wilson or Cuddy.

"We'll try to get over to his apartment tomorrow, weather permitting. It's really coming down out there."

"I know," Sarah said. She looked over at Greg. He was still slumped in the chair but she could see the fine lines of tension around his eyes, even though they were closed. "Let's wait and see how conditions are in the morning."

"Ok. I'll call."

"Fine. Goodnight." Sarah ended the call and set the cell phone down on the end-table before looking back to Greg. He opened his eyes. "C'mon. Let's get you into bed."

"I can take the couch," he said half-heartedly.

Sarah shook her head. "Nope." She motioned for him to follow her and started down the hall. A minute later he rose with some difficulty and slowly limped after her.

She turned down the bed for him before collecting her pajamas and going into the bathroom to change. When she came back he was lying on the left-side of the bed. His eyes were closed and Maggie was pressed up against him. Sarah leaned over the bed to remove the dog and drew in a startled breath when Greg caught her hand in his.

"Stay," he said softly.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: Still don't own. What a bummer. I would like to thank my beta, Brighid45, for her help with this story and also for the numerous email conversations we've had over the past few months, analyzing the show and all the characters. Thirteen borrows a line from one of those conversations later in this chapter, when she's complaining about Wilson. Thank you to all of you who have sent me a review or signed up for alerts, etc. I really appreciate it!**

Sarah had just taken Maggie outside when House's cell phone began to ring. He got to his feet and moved to the bathroom, digging the phone out of his jeans pocket. The ringtone was "Tie Me Kangaroo Down"; that meant Chase was calling. With a sigh House answered.

"Is it done?" he asked, limping slowly back to the living room. "What?" he demanded when Chase said nothing.

"Remy…Thirteen was with me when I got the call."

"Is it done?" House repeated, not surprised to learn that Chase and Thirteen were together. He'd seen the looks between them for the past few weeks and wondered how long it would take. He glanced up as the apartment door opened and Sarah came in with Maggie. He noted her coat was wet and her cheeks pink.

"We went through the conference room and your office. We'll try to do your apartment tomorrow, weather permitting."

"Just a minute," House said, laying the phone against his chest as Sarah turned from the closet. "It's Chase." He held the phone out to her and Sarah moved to take it.

"Hello," she said. He could hear Chase answering her, though he couldn't make out the words. Sarah answered with a bristly "We?" House leaned his head back and only half-listened to the rest of her conversation.

"I see…I know… Let's wait and see how conditions are in the morning …Fine. Goodnight." Sarah ended the call and House opened his eyes to look at her. "C'mon. Let's get you into bed."

"I can take the couch."

Sarah shook her head. "Nope." She motioned for him to follow her and started down the hall. He got reluctantly to his feet, feeling a mixture of gratitude and guilt. The couch would not do his leg any good, but he hated the thought of kicking her out of her own bed.

When he reached the bedroom, Sarah had turned down the covers for him and was collecting her pajamas. She carried them to the bathroom as he stretched out on the left side of the bed, groaning a little when the spasm in his thigh began to relax. A minute later he heard Maggie bounding up the ramp and across the mattress. The dog lay down along his right side, pressing into him, and he put a gentle hand on her. Her presence brought to mind his dream from the car. The feeling of loneliness was overwhelming, even with Maggie at his side.

When Sarah returned to the bedroom and leaned over to collect the dog he caught her hand, an impulsive gesture he regretted almost as soon as he made it.

"Stay," he whispered. Sarah stared at him, clearly surprised by the request. "I just… I don't want to be alone."

"Ok," Sarah said after a moment, her soft voice hesitant. She lay down on top of the covers, turning on her side to face him. "I'll stay a little while."

House looked at her. His gaze was drawn to the faint scar crossing her right brow. He lifted his hand and traced the small mark with his thumb, an awkward gesture. His flesh tingled as it touched her soft skin. Sarah shivered, closing her eyes.

"How did you get that?" House asked quietly. Sarah's eyes opened. She frowned a little, making the scar stand out more, and then smiled.

"I didn't even realize it was noticeable anymore."

"It shows up when you frown."

"Ah." Sarah shifted, propping her head up on her hand. "Well, I was 3 or 4 when I got this. I was with my mother and my little brother and we were walking somewhere downtown – I can't remember where. My mother was pushing my brother in a stroller and didn't have a free hand to hold mine so she told me to stay right beside her. We were walking along the sidewalk and there were cars parallel parked beside it. One driver had pulled in too close. I didn't see the mirror – it was here." Sarah motioned to her brow. "My mother didn't see it either. I walked right into it."

House winced. "You needed stitches," he said.

"Yep. That's actually one of my first real memories from childhood. I remember the emergency room doctor shining a light in my eyes. I even remember thinking that he was mean. He was probably just impatient, trying to get a squirming 4-year-old to hold still so he could get the stitches done."

"So it was an accident." House's hand clenched around the blanket as he waited for her answer.

Sarah nodded, still smiling a little. "Yes, of course. My mother felt terrible about it. She'd wanted me to stay beside her so she could make sure I was safe and instead I wound up getting hurt."

House let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Sarah scooted closer to him, her smile fading as her brows drew together. "Did something like that happen to you?"

House turned his face away to stare at the ceiling. It was an innocent question; she had no idea he had only painful answers. "Not exactly. I… I don't want to talk about it."

"Ok." Her hand covered his and he looked over at her. She had dropped her head to the pillow once more but she was still watching him. The concern in her eyes made him uncomfortable. House glanced away, his focus back on the ceiling.

"Sometimes…things aren't accidental." The words slipped out, sounding sad, pathetic. He cringed, wishing he could recall them. Resigned, he waited for Sarah to pull free and was surprised when the hand covering his squeezed a little tighter, her small fingers gentle. The mattress moved as she shifted closer to him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. She slipped her arm under his and held his hand between both of hers. The warmth of her body, her closeness, gave him an odd sense of peace. He breathed out a sigh and closed his stinging eyes.

* * *

Chase ended his call and looked over at Thirteen. He'd been pacing the living room area of her loft while he talked on the phone, first with Nolan and then with House and Sarah. She was perched on the end of her bed, her hands clutching the bedding.

"How did it go?" she asked, her voice tight with anxiety.

"House seemed fine. Sarah was a little…terse."

Thirteen swallowed on a dry throat. "How did House take the news that you'd talked to me?"

"_He_ didn't say anything. Sarah…" Chase shrugged. "She didn't seem too happy about it."

"She's being protective," Thirteen said. Her anxiousness faded as one corner of her mouth lifted up.

"I guess so." Chase returned her smile before shifting his gaze to the coffee table, where the six cancer texts rested. "We'd better dispose of those."

"Yeah." Thirteen got to her feet, sobering as she looked at House's hiding places. "At least House has one friend looking out for him."

"Wilson did try to get him to quit," Chase said.

"You can't give a kid candy with one hand and slap him on the wrist for taking it with the other," Thirteen snapped. "Wilson knew House was an addict and he wrote him scripts anyway."

"The whole hospital knew House was an addict. _Nobody_ did anything about it," Chase said. "You can't put it all on Wilson. I wrote him scripts too."

Thirteen sighed, her anger fading. "You're right. We all enabled it." She flinched inwardly as she thought about her own culpability. How many times had she watched House take pills in the midst of a differential? She hadn't paid enough attention to realize the amount had increased. He'd hallucinated during differentials and she hadn't caught on – no one had. He'd been falling apart in front of them and not a single one of them had noticed.

Chase stepped over to her and laid a light hand on her shoulder. "Look, we can't change the past. All we can do is move forward and try not to make the same mistakes."

"Let's get rid of this stuff," Thirteen said, shrugging off Chase's touch. She moved to the coffee table and squatted before it. She opened the books, pulled out the bottles and lined them up on the table; when she shut the last book it was with more force than she'd intended. The thud sounded loud in her quiet apartment. She sank back onto her heels and stared at the amber-colored vials.

"Remy…" Chase began. She cut him off.

"I know we can't change the past," she said tersely. "But I'm not ready to just shrug this off. We're doctors. We should've known better."

"I'm not shrugging it off. I just don't see any point in beating myself up about something that's done."

Thirteen rose to her feet and stared at Chase. His face was calm. She felt her heart start to race. "You don't feel _any_ guilt?" she demanded.

"I didn't say that," Chase retorted. He was frowning now. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know that this matters to you!"

"Of course it matters! I agreed to do the searches, didn't I?" Chase glared at her. Thirteen looked away. They stood in an awkward silence for several minutes. She broke it finally, feeling awkward.

"I'm going to flush these pills," she said quietly. She leaned down to scoop up the bottles and made her way to the bathroom.

She'd emptied three containers when Chase stepped into the doorway.

"Where can I take these books?" he asked quietly.

"There's a dumpster out back. I'll take you down there in a minute," Thirteen said, emptying another vial.

"I do care," Chase said softly after a brief silence. "House…I owe him more than you know. I know what I'm doing is too little too late but…"

"There's nothing else you can do. It's like you said, we can't change the past. We just have to do better going forward." Thirteen glanced over to Chase. He was studying his feet, his face full of guilt. She turned back to the bottles. When she'd finished, he had vanished from the doorway. She found him pacing by her coffee table, his expression impassive.

"C'mon," she said, lifting three of the books. Let's get rid of these things."

* * *

Sarah had been stunned by Greg's request for her to stay. One look at the sadness in his eyes was enough to convince her. She'd stretched out on top of the covers and turned to face him. She was surprised when he asked her about the scar in her eyebrow. She didn't think that it was even noticeable anymore. She told him the story, watching as he grew more tense.

"So it was an accident," he said. Sarah gave a soft sigh, remembering the fear in her mother's eyes. She smiled a little at the memory of all the chaos and confusion following her cry of pain. So much fuss for something so small . . . though it hadn't felt that way at the time.

"Yes, of course. My mother felt terrible about it. She'd wanted me to stay beside her so she could make sure I was safe and instead I wound up getting hurt." Greg breathed out a shaky breath and Sarah frowned. "Did something like that happen to you?"

Greg looked away from her, staring up at the ceiling. "Not exactly. I… I don't want to talk about it." His hand was clenched into a fist. Sarah reached over to take it. With care she loosened his fingers to clasp them with her own. He didn't resist; in fact after a few moments she had the pleasant surprise of feeling him return her hold, his own grasp warm and firm.

"Ok." She dropped her head back to the pillow, watching him. He looked over at her for a second before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

"Sometimes…things aren't accidental." His voice was so quiet that for a second Sarah wasn't sure she'd heard him. He was tensing up, his body almost rigid. Sarah could see the lines around his eyes deepening. She gave his hand a squeeze and when he didn't pull away, she scooted closer to him. She wanted to put her arms around him but wasn't sure she could do it without causing him pain. Instead she rested her head on his shoulder and gently slid her arm beneath his, holding his hand between both of hers. Greg breathed out a soft sigh; Sarah felt him relax little by little. His breathing slowed, deepening. When she dared to tip back her head, she saw his eyes were closed. He had fallen asleep. Sarah shifted slowly, not wanting to wake him but needing to move before she got a crick in her neck.

Once she was on her stomach she stopped to study him. Again she was stricken by the pain she saw etched into his features. Even in sleep there seemed to be no escape. There was an accompanying sadness so profound it made her heart ache. She wished she could put her arms around him without fear of aggravating his injuries. With a sigh of regret she settled in beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and putting her hand on his arm.

_Sometimes things aren't accidental._ Sarah replayed Greg's words in her mind and felt her stomach twist. He'd been so tense when he'd asked about her scar, so clearly relieved to learn that it hadn't been intentional. She thought back to the lost, sad expression she'd seen so many times this evening and felt tears filling her eyes even as she fought to keep her hands from forming fists. She didn't know who had hurt him, but right now she wanted to pound that person.

After a few minutes Sarah slipped carefully from the bed and moved through her apartment, turning out the lights. She made her way through the darkened living room to the front windows, moving aside the curtain to look out at the street. The snow was falling fast; she could see the sidewalk was already coated by at least an inch with much more to come. There was no traffic on the street and the wind was howling. Unless the snow slowed soon, she didn't think Chase was going to be able to make it to Greg's apartment tomorrow.

Sarah rested her forehead against the cool glass as the tears she'd held at bay began to slip down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself and let them fall. _What am I supposed to do now?_ she wondered, feeling helpless. _What do I say to him in the morning?_

She wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there when she felt a cold, wet nose press against the back of her ankle. She gave a startled yelp and turned, looking down to see Maggie staring at her. The dog gave a tentative wag of her tail and Sarah managed a watery smile in return.

"You think it's time I came back to bed, huh?" she whispered. "You know, you're right. I'm too tired to think straight right now." Sarah leaned down to scoop up Maggie and headed back to the bedroom. She set the dog down on the bed and, after a moment's hesitation, slipped under the covers and moved close to Greg.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: Insert the usual lame disclaimer here. Once again, I would like to thank my beta, Brighid45, for her help and to thank all of you who've sent in a review, added this or my previous story to your favs, or signed up for alerts. I really appreciate it!**

House came awake slowly. For a minute he was confused, and then the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him. He turned his head, looking for Sarah, and felt a pang of disappointment when he realized that he was alone. The alarm clock on the bedside table showed that it was almost 7 am. He was surprised to realize he had slept through the night with no nightmares, especially given what he'd been talking about just before he'd fallen asleep.

House cringed as he remembered his conversation with Sarah. Could he have sounded any more desperate or pathetic? It was too much to hope she wouldn't bring it up. His stomach twisted at the thought. It had been hard enough sharing what little he had with Nolan over the past several months; he couldn't imagine telling anyone else. He wondered how long he could stay in bed and avoid the inevitable awkward conversation.

After a few minutes his full bladder began to protest and he shifted, moving carefully and testing his leg with each change in position. The right leg was definitely sore. He froze as a spasm ran through it. A second later a cramp took hold and he nearly screamed. His hand went to the rock-hard muscle, squeezing desperately as he felt the sweat start to bead up on his forehead. A strangled whimper escaped his tightly clamped jaw and he turned his head, trying to bury his face in the pillow. He did not want Sarah to find him like this.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there before he heard Maggie bounding up the ramp and onto the bed. The dog paused, sensing something was wrong; a few seconds later she retreated, the click of her nails receding as she left the room. A few minutes later he heard Sarah approach. He was half-relieved and half-embarrassed to realize she was about to find him in agony, knowing she would help and ashamed at his eagerness for her to do so.

"Greg?" she asked softly. He didn't budge, afraid of aggravating the leg further, and a note of alarm filled her voice. "Are you alright?" He felt the mattress shift. Her hand came to rest lightly on top of his. He reluctantly gave her access to his leg, and she began to gently knead it. After a few minutes, he felt the cramp begin to ease. He slowly shifted so he was lying on his back again as Sarah continued the massage. When his gaze met hers by accident, he saw her eyes were full of worry. He looked away.

"How long were you like this?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," he murmured. "A few minutes maybe." He caught one of her hands to stop her, ignoring the feel of her small fingers clasped in his. "It's better now."

"Ok." She touched him lightly on the shoulder. "Are you ready to try getting up?" He didn't answer her, just started to sit. She eased back, giving him space but staying close in case he needed help. When he reached a sitting position, he carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sarah moved so that she was sitting beside him.

"I need a minute," he said, embarrassed by her attention.

"There's no hurry," Sarah said calmly. "We're not going anywhere today. There's at least a foot of snow out there, with more coming down. Roads are drifting shut as fast as the crews can plow."

"So, we're stuck here," House said.

"Yep." Sarah kept her tone light but he could see the lines of tension around her eyes. Was it the storm making her nervous, or the prospect of being trapped with him? He reached for his cane, which was propped against the bedside table, and prepared to get to his feet. Sarah stood up but remained close to the bed.

"I'm fine now," he told her, struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Good," Sarah said, not moving. With a grunt, House got to his feet. He stood for a few seconds, letting the leg adjust, and then tried moving forward. Sarah stepped aside to let him pass and followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

When he emerged a few minutes later, Sarah was waiting on the couch. The television was on with the volume turned low. Right now it was showing the radar image; the storm seemed to be stalled out over them. House could hear the howling of the wind outside.

Sarah looked over as he dropped down beside her. She took a deep breath and he braced himself, knowing what was coming next. _Can we please just not do this? _he begged her silently.

"Greg, last night…"

"Don't," he said, wincing at his pleading tone. The leg gave another spasm as he tensed up.

"I'm not going to ask you any questions," Sarah said quickly. "Just…I'm here. I'll listen, if you want to talk."

"I don't." His tone was harsher than he'd intended. He felt Sarah go still beside him.

"Ok," she said. She turned back toward the television but not before he saw the hurt flash across her face. They sat in an awkward silence, House rubbing at his leg while Sarah stared fixedly at the tv. After a few minutes, she got up and left the living room, returning with the heating pad. She held it out to him.

"I'd suggest a hot bath, but the power's flickered a few times."

"Thanks," he mumbled, draping the pad around his thigh. Sarah plugged it in and turned to go to the kitchen.

"I'm going to fill some jugs with water and start breakfast," she said over her shoulder. House watched her go, trying to figure out how to ease the tension between them even as he knew any attempt he made would fail miserably.

* * *

Thirteen came awake suddenly. She lay in her bed, trying to figure out what woke her. After a minute she determined that the shrieking of the wind outside her apartment was what had disturbed her. A glance at her alarm clock showed that it was just after 7 and she groaned. She should really be getting ready for work, but to judge from the sounds outside she was going to have a hard time making it in.

A snort beside her reminded her that she was not alone. She turned to study Chase. He was lying beside her on his stomach, half his face pressed into the pillow. Thirteen sighed, remembering how he'd come to be there.

When they'd taken House's books out to the dumpster, it had been obvious that there was no way Chase was making it home that night. Snow had been blowing almost horizontally and the streets were already coated with a thick layer of icy slush. They'd gone back up to her apartment and wound up on the couch, watching tv. Thirteen tried to lose herself in the plot of the movie they'd stumbled upon, but she couldn't stop thinking about House. She replayed moments from differentials in her mind, wondering how she could have missed the signs that he was in trouble.

Eventually it had grown late and Thirteen had turned to Chase to suggest that it was time to sleep. She wasn't sure which of them had initiated it, but they'd wound up kissing. The kisses had rapidly escalated to something more. As they'd made their way to the bed, shedding clothing along the way, part of her brain had been screaming that they should stop. It was still shrilling at her when she'd collapsed onto the mattress, but as Chase's hands had moved to her waist, she'd lifted her hips to help him strip off the last of her clothing.

She shivered, remembering what had followed. His touch had been deft and sure and he'd seemed to know just where to bring her the most pleasure. When he'd followed his hands with his mouth, all rational thought had been completely drowned out. She had lost herself in the sensations, welcoming the escape from her guilt.

Thirteen felt herself flush as she realized that she was tingling just remembering. She turned away from Chase, hoping to calm herself before he woke up. She jumped when his arm slipped around her waist and he drew her close to him.

"Morning," he murmured into her ear. His accent was more pronounced and the feeling of his breath moving across her skin made her shiver.

"Morning," she answered. She was about to suggest that they should get up but Chase slid his hand down from her waist and she gasped. "Chase…"

"Weather sounds nasty," he murmured, and she could feel his arousal pressing into her back. "I don't think we're going anywhere." Thirteen could feel her apprehension fading, rapidly being replaced with anticipation as Chase's hand moved closer to her core.

"We're probably needed at the hospital," she said weakly.

"They'll manage without us," Chase said, nipping at her earlobe before moving to suckle gently on her neck. With a sigh, Thirteen reached down to guide his hand to his goal as once again he swept the last vestiges of reason from her mind.

* * *

When the alarm sounded, Sarah quickly shut it off, not wanting to disturb Greg. She slipped quietly from the bed and made her way to the front windows. She could still hear the wind howling and when she moved the curtains aside, she saw that there was at least a foot of snow on the ground. It was hard to say for certain because of all the drifting, and fat flakes still fell, mesmerizing her as they swirled past the window.

When she returned to the bedroom, Greg was still sleeping. She spent a moment studying him, struck once more by the pain and sadness in his face. She thought back to his words from the night before. What was she going to say to him? She couldn't see him wanting to discuss it, but ignoring what he'd said felt wrong. She needed to acknowledge what she'd heard without making him feel trapped into talking. How was she going to manage that?

Sarah dressed quickly before bundling up to take Maggie outside. Opening the front entrance door proved to be a challenge. Snow had drifted up in front of it and the wind was pushing more against it. Sarah's cheeks stung as the hard-driven snow hit them. Maggie wasted no time once they were outside, but she was still shivering when Sarah scooped her up to carry her inside. Back in the apartment, Sarah wrapped the dog in a blanket and set her on the couch before stripping off her coat and boots. There were no sounds from the bedroom; Sarah decided to let Greg sleep. They clearly weren't going anywhere today. She turned the tv on, keeping the volume down, and watched the newscasters discuss the storm.

Maggie got down from the couch a short while later and trotted into the bedroom. Sarah smiled; the dog's idea of going back to bed seemed like a good one and she contemplated following her. She was surprised when Maggie returned a minute later, walked up to her and squeaked. Her ears were down and she looked worried. Frowning, Sarah got to her feet and headed to the bedroom.

"Greg?" she spoke softly as she entered, not wanting to wake him if he was still sleeping. She got one look at him and felt her stomach twist. He was on his side, curled almost into a fetal position. His face was pressed into the pillow and she could see the tendons in his neck stretched tight. "Are you alright?" Sarah moved quickly to the bed, and slid across so that she was next to Greg. His free hand was clenched tight around his thigh and she placed her hand over it. He moved his hand aside, letting her knead the taut muscle. After a few minutes he shifted, rolling onto his back, and Sarah felt the cramp easing beneath her hands. She continued her massage, watching his face anxiously. Sweat was beaded across his forehead and he was breathing rapidly.

"How long were you like this?" Sarah asked, horrified that he hadn't called for help. How long would he have stayed this way, struggling with overwhelming pain, if Maggie hadn't alerted her to the problem?

"I don't know. A few minutes maybe." He caught one of her hands and she stopped the massage. "It's better now."

"Ok. Are you ready to try getting up?" Greg didn't reply but he did start to sit. Sarah moved back to give him room. When he swung his legs over the side of the bed, Sarah moved to sit beside him. She didn't want to hover but she was afraid to move too far away in case he needed help.

"I need a minute," he said, avoiding her gaze. He sounded as if he was trying not to growl at her. Sarah tried to keep her tone casual.

"There's no hurry. We're not going anywhere today. There's at least a foot of snow out there, with more coming down. Roads are drifting shut as fast as the crews can plow."

"So, we're stuck here."

"Yep." Greg reached for his cane and Sarah stood up.

"I'm fine now," he said, still not looking at her.

"Good," Sarah answered. It was clear that he wanted to her to leave, but she was afraid he might fall. After a moment's pause, Greg got slowly to his feet. When he stepped forward, Sarah moved aside to let him go past. She followed him down the hall to the bathroom. Once he was inside, she went back to the living room. Greg joined her there a few minutes later. He avoided her gaze as he sat down some distance from her. Sarah took a deep breath, uncomfortable with putting off this conversation any longer.

"Greg, last night…"

"Don't," he said. Sarah cringed at the pleading tone in his voice. She was messing this up already.

"I'm not going to ask you any questions," she said quickly. "Just…I'm here. I'll listen, if you want to talk."

"I don't," Greg snapped. His harsh tone stung and Sarah struggled to keep the hurt out of her face.

"Ok," she said, turning back toward the television. They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Sarah realized that Greg was rubbing at his thigh and got to her feet. She got the heating pad out from under the bathroom sink and brought it back to the living room. Greg looked up as she held it out to him.

"I'd suggest a hot bath, but the power's flickered a few times," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm and even. He took the pad and draped it around his leg.

"Thanks," he mumbled. Sarah plugged the pad in and turned toward the kitchen.

"I'm going to fill some jugs with water and start breakfast," she said over her shoulder. The tension was thick in the living room and with no idea how to ease it, she was grateful for a chance to escape.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Don't own 'em (wish I did). Thank you, as always, to my beta Brighid45 for her help and support. Thank you as well for the reviews. They really make my day so please, keep 'em coming! **

House had stayed on the couch while Sarah made breakfast. The tantalizing fragrance of cooking bacon wafted from the kitchen, but he didn't feel hungry. When Sarah had called to him that everything was ready, he got to his feet reluctantly, switching off the heating pad. He'd picked at his food and noticed that she wasn't eating much either. They barely spoke to each other.

After breakfast, House had decided to risk taking a bath. The power hadn't flickered once during the meal, and it held throughout his soak. He'd even managed to button his shirt on his own, though he'd still needed Sarah's help getting back into the sling.

Unfortunately, lunch was no less tense than breakfast had been. Sarah made soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, a meal they both picked at. She offered some casual comments about the weather but other than that, they scarcely spoke. Finally, with a sigh of frustration, House pushed away his plate.

"Just stop it," he growled.

Sarah set down her spoon and stared at him. "Stop what?"

"You know—this—this stupid tip-toeing around me!"

She looked down at her soup. "I don't know what to say to you right now. You're upset and I…"

"I am not upset!" House snapped.

"Look, I didn't mean to …distress you this morning." Her voice shook a little. "It just felt wrong, ignoring what you said--"

"Ignoring it would have been perfect."

"I'm sorry," Sarah said after a little silence. Her cheeks were flushed and House thought he saw a gleam of tears in her eyes.

"I don't need your pity." He didn't bother to keep the contempt out of his words.

"I'm not pitying you," Sarah protested. "I'm _not_ trying to fix you."

"That's right – you just want to help," House sneered. A tear slipped down Sarah's cheek. She wiped at it with the back of her hand and got up quickly, snatching her plate to carry it to the sink. House glared after her. Her refusal to fight back only made him more irritated.

"When were you planning to tell me about your little meeting with Wilson?" he demanded. Sarah turned from the sink to stare at him; tears glittered in her lashes. The sight angered him further. She had no right to be upset!

"You…you were working," she said, her words tentative. "You had a patient. I was going to wait--until your case was over…"

"Case is over."

She looked down at her hands. "A lot has happened since then."

"So, you were never going to tell me?"

"I didn't say that!" The flush on Sarah's cheeks was growing and House felt a savage satisfaction, seeing her getting exasperated.

"So?" he pressed.

"I went over to your apartment to get my coat. I picked it up and turned to go and _he_ was there – he had his hand in one of your shoes from the closet. I asked him what he was doing and he hemmed and hawed about answering me. It was just so…phony." Sarah shook her head. "It felt like he wanted me to trap him into telling me that you were an addict. He obviously thought it was some deep dark secret that would scare me. So I...I got angry. I snapped at him that I already knew. And he--he told me about your hallucinations, about his girlfriend and Dr. Cuddy." Sarah stopped. She looked guilt-stricken.

"Go on," House snapped, pushing down the humiliation he felt. Anger was easier.

"He knew he'd gotten to me with that. He taunted me – something about you not telling me everything and I just…" She was trembling now. "I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. I told him that I hadn't had you investigated and asked him if he'd hired Lucas Douglas to do some spying or if that was Dr. Cuddy's idea." Sarah shook her head again. "He actually tried to convince me that it was your doing. Then he told me that your motto is 'everybody lies' and that I was included in everybody. I told him to leave – that there were no drugs for him to find and that I knew… because I'd been there when you got rid of them." Now Sarah looked ashamed. "Greg, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

House pushed his chair back suddenly, wincing at the scraping sound it made, and fled the kitchen. He limped across the living room to the front window. His leg was throbbing but he was too keyed up to sit down. He stared out at the storm for a few minutes, until he heard Sarah enter the room. When he turned from the window, she was standing near the end of the couch.

"Give me my keys," he said tiredly.

"You know I can't do that," Sarah said. "Like it or not, you're stuck here with me." The last word held a little tremor, but she held his gaze.

House glared at her, feeling his anger surging again. "Too bad Wilson couldn't answer all your questions," he said bitterly.

"I didn't want to find out, not like that," Sarah protested. Her soft voice held anguish now as well as shame. "You should have been the one to tell me, when you were ready." House gave a snort of derision. Sarah winced but went on. "I've never asked you questions. You've decided what you wanted to tell me. Wilson had no right to take that decision away from you."

He looked away from her, glaring at the tv and feeling his heart pound. Sarah waited. "It was my father," he said finally.

"Don't," Sarah protested. He snapped his gaze back to her. She flinched but didn't look away from his glare.

"I thought you wanted to hear this," he sneered.

* * *

Thirteen stood at her windows, looking down at the snow-covered streets below. It was after noon now and the storm showed no sign of letting up. Chase was behind her, sitting on her couch; she could hear the newscasters on the tv. They were discussing the nor'easter, going over the same information they'd been sharing all morning. She stole a glance over her shoulder and was relieved to see that Chase was still staring at the television.

Sooner or later they were going to have to discuss what had happened between them, but Thirteen was glad to put that discussion off. Each time she thought about talking with Chase, her stomach twisted into another knot. She was afraid they'd made a mistake but at the same time, she couldn't wait to make that same mistake all over again.

She let out a startled gasp as Chase stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close and kissed her cheek.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice low and intimate.

"I was thinking that I wish this storm would never end. We could stay hidden in here forever," Thirteen admitted.

Chase chuckled softly. "Sooner or later we're going to have to talk about last night."

"And this morning," Thirteen replied, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"They were both…amazing," Chase said, his arms tightening around her. Thirteen sighed even as she felt her blush deepen. 'Amazing' was a good description. Chase had been…enthusiastic about pleasing her.

"We were going to take things slowly," she said. She squirmed and Chase loosened his grip so she could turn in his arms to face him.

"Do you regret what happened?" he asked. His blue eyes were bright and searching.

"Not regret, exactly."

"Then what, exactly?" Chase let his hands drop from her waist and took a half-step back, frowning at her.

Thirteen fumbled for the words. "I just…I'm afraid."

"You didn't seem afraid last night, or this morning." There was an edge to Chase's voice now and his frown deepened.

"I wasn't," Thirteen said with a sigh. "But I also wasn't thinking very clearly."

"And now that you are?"

"Now that I am, I'm remembering all our reasons for wanting to take things slowly."

Chase set his jaw. "You're worried that Foreman's going to be angry."

She shook her head. "Foreman's already angry and I don't care. He's not the problem."

"Then who? House?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am not in love with House?" Thirteen demanded.

"I _know_ you're not in love with House. But you were pretty upset last night…"

She huffed in exasperation, mostly at herself. "I was upset because we let him down. _I_ let him down. He fell apart right in front of me and I didn't even see it."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Chase protested. "You had a lot to deal with last year – your diagnosis, the trial going wrong, Kutner."

"None of us saw that Kutner was in trouble either," Thirteen said softly. "God, when did I become so heartless?"

"You're _not_ heartless. The very fact that you're so upset proves that you're not." Chase took a step toward her, putting a hand on her arm. Thirteen sighed. She wanted so much to believe what he was telling her. Chase moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into the embrace.

* * *

Sarah thought she was going to be sick. The tension between them had been building all day until finally Greg had lashed out at her during lunch. She'd tried to walk away but he'd pushed on, demanding to know when she'd planned on telling him about her encounter with Wilson. She'd stumbled through the story, feeling her guilt and shame rising as she recalled what Wilson had told her. She'd started to apologize and Greg had pushed back from the table and left the kitchen. She took a few deep breaths and followed him.

He was standing at the front window, staring out at the storm. He didn't turn when she first entered the room. She waited, standing near the end of the couch closest to the kitchen. When he finally did turn, he looked tired and angry and under it all, resigned. Her heart ached for him.

"Give me my keys."

"You know I can't do that," Sarah said. "Like it or not, you're stuck here with me." He glared at her. It was hard not to flinch away from the bitterness in his eyes.

"Too bad Wilson couldn't answer all your questions," he snarled. Sarah sighed. She'd hoped that the argument was over but it seemed he was ready for round two.

"I didn't want to find out, not like that. You should have been the one to tell me, when you were ready." Greg gave a snort of derision but she pressed on. "I've never asked you questions. You've decided what you wanted to tell me. Wilson had no right to take that decision away from you."

Greg looked away from her, glaring at the tv for several minutes. Sarah waited. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

"It was my father," he said finally.

Sarah felt her stomach twist with fear, mostly for him. "Don't."

He snapped his head back to glare at her and she flinched. "I thought you wanted to hear this," he sneered.

"Not like this," Sarah protested. "I said I was willing to listen, if you wanted to talk."

"I'm talking now."

She pushed away her anxiety and tried to sound calm."Please, don't do this."

"So now you don't want to listen?"

"I'm not saying that!" Sarah could feel tears welling up in her eyes, a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "I just…you're angry right now. I don't want you to do something that you'll regret."

"Right." That single word dripped with icy sarcasm. He looked away from her again. Sarah wiped at the tears that were slipping down her face. She had no idea what to say to him. His hand was gripping his cane so tightly that his knuckles were white and she was afraid his leg would lock up again.

It was Maggie who broke the tense silence, letting out a pathetic squeak from her seat at one end of the couch. They both turned their gazes to the dog and found she was looking between them with worried brown eyes, her tail wagging tentatively.

"Please, come and sit down," Sarah urged, moving to sit beside the dog. "We're scaring Maggie. Please," she said again when he didn't respond. Greg stared at her for a minute before limping forward. He was moving slowly, his gait stiff, and she breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to the couch. Maggie promptly hopped over to him and after a second he reached out to pet her. The dog leaned into him, her tail wagging a little faster. Sarah watched as his breathing started to even out. She could feel her own heart-rate slowing. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the apartment were from the wind howling outside and the windows rattling with each gust. Finally, Greg spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me about Lucas?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Maggie. The anger was gone from his voice; he just sounded tired.

"I found out on Christmas Eve. I was all prepared to let Dr. Cuddy have it – I was sure it was her doing – and then you called. You sounded…shaken up."

Greg flicked his eyes up to her for a second. "You could've told me later."

"We were having such a nice evening. I actually forgot about it and I didn't think of it again until…well, until Wilson was here."

"How much did you overhear Christmas Day?" Greg continued to study Maggie as he rubbed her ears. He sounded subdued.

"I…I heard you tell Wilson that we were friends, and that you were done with Cuddy," Sarah admitted. She jumped as a particularly fierce blast of wind hit the building and the windows made a loud cracking noise. The lights flickered off for a moment and then came back on.

"I'm going to go get some flashlights," Sarah said, getting quickly to her feet. She went into the kitchen and retrieved one from a drawer. She handed it off to Greg and headed for the bedroom to get another. She was just entering the room when the lights went out again.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: Still don't own. Are all of you as psyched for "Lockdown" tomorrow night as I am? I can't wait to see HL's House-directing debut, and it sounds like a juicy story too! I am pleased to know the many interruptions are over, but bummed that there are only 6 more eps left in the season. But then, that's what fanfic is for, right? Many thanks go to my beta, Brighid45, and if you're looking for good fanfic, I heartily recommend her Treatment series. The fifth story, _Voices Carry_, is in progress and a great read! Thank you as well for the reviews, alert sign-ups, etc. I appreciate them greatly! And now, on with our story...**

Sarah had just gone down the hall, presumably to find another flashlight, when the lights went out again. House waited, but they didn't come back on. He was about to call out to her when he heard a loud thud.

"Sarah?" he called out sharply, getting to his feet with care. He put a hand on Maggie. "Stay," he whispered. The last thing he needed was to trip over the dog. He grew more anxious when there was no reply to his call. He flipped on the flashlight and took it in his left hand, aiming it awkwardly because of the sling, then retrieved his cane from the couch and started carefully toward the dark hallway.

_What do you think you're going to accomplish?_ sneered a voice in his head. _You've got one bum leg and an arm in a sling – you're useless._ He pushed the thoughts away and continued to the bedroom. "Sarah!"

"I'm ok." Sarah's voice sounded muffled.

"What happened?" House stepped into the bedroom. He hooked his cane over his useless left arm and transferred the flashlight to his right hand. It took him a moment to find Sarah with its beam; she was sprawled on the floor and Maggie's ramp was on its side.

"I forgot the ramp was there and tripped over it." Sarah started to get up, wincing as she put weight on her arms.

"Take it easy," he cautioned, hating that he couldn't help her. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm going to have some bruises, but the only serious injury was to my dignity," Sarah replied dryly. She put up a hand to block the light-beam from hitting her face.

"You're sure you didn't hit your head?" House pressed, remembering how she hadn't answered his first call. "Sit down for a minute."

"My head's fine, but my arm's a little sore. I landed on it," Sarah said, taking a seat on the bed. House moved to stand in front of her. She held still, letting him look her over with the flashlight beam. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no obvious marks on her face.

"Which arm?" he asked.

"The left." Sarah pushed up her sleeve and held it out. House examined it, seeing nothing.

"Hold this," he muttered, handing her the light. Sarah took it with her right hand, aiming the beam at her left arm. House reached out and carefully moved his hand over the limb. She hissed as he reached the sore place. He prodded at it gently, feeling a knot forming.

"I think it's just bruised," Sarah said, flinching.

"You should've taken the flashlight with you," he chided.

"I didn't want to leave you without one."

"I could have sat on the couch in the dark," House said, feeling a surge of irritation now that he knew Sarah was alright. He finished his exam and released her arm. "I didn't find any breaks," he said, taking a seat beside her on the bed. His leg was beginning to throb and he rubbed at it.

"Your leg's bothering you." Sarah put her hand over his and with a sigh of resignation, he moved his own away to let her massage his leg. She eased both hands into place and gently worked the muscle. House felt the muscles relax under her ministrations.

"You're sure you didn't hit your head?" he asked, reaching over to move her hair back from her face. Her pupils had reacted normally when he'd passed the flashlight beam over them but he couldn't shake his anxiety.

"I'm sure," Sarah said quietly. "I'm ok."

"You need to be more careful." He couldn't keep the harshness out of his voice.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Don't apologize!" House snapped. He felt Sarah's hands still for a second and softened his tone. "Just…take better care of yourself." Sarah resumed her massage of his leg and he let go a ragged breath. "You don't have to worry about Lucas. I'll put a stop to it."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Sarah said calmly. "If I catch him around here, _I'll_ put a stop to it. I've had enough of hiding from creeps. I just hope he doesn't visit my family. My mother…"

House cut her off, feeling his stomach twist with guilt. "She'll be upset."

"I was going to say she might put him in the hospital," Sarah replied wryly. House was startled into a chuckle before he could stop himself.

"Maybe we should send him to Indiana," he said, entertained at the thought of someone's mom taking on a private eye.

Sarah laughed. "As tempting as that is, I don't think it's a good idea. Besides, Lucas is just doing his job."

"Right." House felt his humor vanish as he thought back to his conversation with Wilson. Lucas was only doing what Wilson hired him to do.

"You're tensing up," Sarah said. "What's wrong?"

"This shouldn't be happening to you," House said tersely. He hesitated, trying to find the right words, and his cell phone began to buzz in his pocket. He groaned; vibrate meant Cuddy, a double-entendre that had provided him quite a bit of secret amusement. He'd never assigned her a ring-tone, knowing it would be easier to hide from her in the hospital if she couldn't find him by dialing his phone. In exasperation he flipped open his cell.

"What?" he growled.

* * *

Thirteen wasn't sure how long she and Chase stood together, wrapped in each other's arms, before the ringing of her phone interrupted them. She wasn't surprised to find it was Cuddy calling. The hospital had been short-staffed at the tail-end of a holiday weekend when the storm hit and the dean was attempting to rope in as many people in as possible.

"We may be able to get you transportation from snow-plows," Cuddy explained. "I'm trying to arrange it now but there's a liability issue and the street department is balking. In the meantime…"

"If there's any way I can safely get there, I will," Thirteen said quickly.

"Good. Please, let me know if you find a way, and be safe," Cuddy said.

"I'll do that," Thirteen said. She ended the call and a minute later, Chase's cell phone rang. Thirteen paced, listening to his side of what was no doubt a very similar conversation.

"Right. I'll let you know," Chase said finally. He ended his call and looked over at her. "Cuddy is anxious."

"I wonder if she's called House yet," Thirteen said. She was tempted to contact the diagnostician herself; she was anxious to know how he and Sarah were getting along. It had to be awkward for them, being trapped together.

"This time last year he would've been the first person she called," Chase said. "Now, I don't know."

"Do you think _we_ should call him?"

"There's nothing we can do for him right now," Chase said. "I'm sure he and Sarah are fine." He jumped as a gust of wind hit the windows, making them rattle. Thirteen held her breath when the lights flickered off, giving a sigh of relief when they came back on.

"I hope they still have power," she muttered. Chase's cell phone rang and he answered it. Thirteen paced, keeping one eye on the television, while Chase talked to the caller.

"Hello? Hey…really? How? …Uh-huh…Uh-huh…No, I'm at Remy's…Yeah…Uh-huh…Sounds good. We'll see you then." Thirteen turned as he ended the call. He looked up to smile at her. She smiled back, feeling herself flush even as butterflies filled her stomach.

"Who was that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

"Taub. He's going to try to get to us and get us to the hospital."

Thirteen gave him a look. "In his _Porsche_?"

"Nope. He's borrowed an SUV from one of his old colleagues." Chase's grin was practically ear-to-ear. "He's on his way now."

"Ok," Thirteen said, puzzled by Chase's amusement. She gathered up some changes of clothing as they waited for Taub to arrive.

His call came about 20 minutes later. The lights had flickered several times while Thirteen packed, so she and Chase took the stairs. When they made it to the sidewalk, Thirteen came to a halt. A bright yellow Hummer was sitting at the curb. She stared, wondering how on earth Taub could reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel at the same time. Chase pulled on her arm. With a start, Thirteen moved forward to climb into the cab. Inside the giant SUV, Taub seemed even smaller than usual.

"Your friend loaned you _this_?" she asked, incredulous.

"It's not like he's going to have any emergency nose-jobs," Taub said with a shrug.

"How are the roads?" Chase asked.

"It's very slow going," Taub said. "Are you sure about going to get House?"

"Yes." Thirteen and Chase spoke together. Taub looked at them and arched a brow, clearly amused.

"Alright. Here we go." The giant vehicle lurched forward.

* * *

Sarah winced as Greg ran his hand over her arm. She could feel a knot forming where she'd landed on it. Her cheeks were still burning with embarrassment. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about Maggie's ramp.

"I think it's just bruised," she said, flinching as Greg's fingers probed the area.

"You should've taken the flashlight with you," he chided.

"I didn't want to leave you without one."

"I could have sat on the couch in the dark." Greg sounded exasperated. "I didn't find any breaks." He released her arm and took a seat beside her on the bed, rubbing at his thigh.

"Your leg's bothering you," Sarah said. She put her hand over his and was pleasantly surprised when he moved his aside to allow her access. She gently worked the muscle, feeling it relax under her hands.

"You're sure you didn't hit your head?" Greg asked anxiously. He reached over to move her hair back from her face. His touch was gentle. She fought the urge to lean into it.

"I'm sure," Sarah said. "I'm ok."

"You need to be more careful," he growled, but she sensed his annoyance was aimed more at the situation than at her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Don't apologize!" Greg snapped, and Sarah froze. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "Just…take better care of yourself." Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and resumed her massage of his leg. "You don't have to worry about Lucas. I'll put a stop to it."

Sarah shook her head even though she doubted Greg could see it in the dim lighting. "Oh, I'm not worried. If I catch him around here, _I'll_ put a stop to it. I've had enough of hiding from creeps. I just hope he doesn't visit my family. My mother…"

"She'll be upset." Greg's voice was tense.

"I was going to say she might put him in the hospital," Sarah replied wryly.

There was a moment of silence. Then to her surprise, Greg chuckled. "Maybe we should send him to Indiana."

"As tempting as that is, I don't think it's a good idea," Sarah said with a laugh. "Besides, Lucas is just doing his job."

"Right," Greg said, the humor fading. His voice was terse now and Sarah could feel his leg drawing up again.

"You're getting tense. What's wrong?"

"This shouldn't be happening to you," Greg said quietly. He seemed to be about to say something more when a buzzing sound interrupted them. He groaned and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "What?" he snarled as he answered. Sarah continued to massage his leg as he spoke with the caller. She could feel his tension increasing.

"That's because I'm not at home…Maybe you've noticed the two feet of snow on the ground…Right…Whatever…_Good-bye_, Cuddy." Sarah could hear the other woman's voice coming from the phone as Greg ended the call.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Cuddy is trying to convince the street department to pick up doctors in snow plows."

"Oh." Sarah felt a myriad of emotions. She was alarmed at the thought of being left alone in the power outage, and dismayed at her selfishness. Greg could stay warm at the hospital; if he was needed there, then he should go. She shivered a little at the thought of sitting in the cold.

"She hasn't convinced them to do it," Greg said. He covered one of her hands with his. "I'm not going to leave you behind."


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note: I still do not own House. I also do not own Archie Goodwin - he was the creation of the brilliant Rex Stout (the man wrote every novel in ONE draft and they remain some of the best mystery novels ever written). IMO, House and Wolfe have more in common than House and Sherlock Holmes. My lovely and patient beta, Brighid45, has already been subjected to my thoughts on this and came back all the same. Many thanks go to her for her beta help and to all of you who have read and reviewed, added to favs, signed up for alerts, etc. I appreciate the feedback!**

House had seen the lines of tension deepening around Sarah's eyes as he spoke with Cuddy. Those same eyes had widened when he told her the dean was trying to persuade the street department to pick up doctors in snow plows. She shivered and on impulse he covered one of her hands with his.

"She hasn't convinced them to do it. I'm not going to leave you behind." Sarah ducked her head.

"I'll be fine," she said softly. An awkward silence fell over them; House became very aware of the feel of Sarah's small hand in his. He wanted to reach out and lift her chin so he could see her face, but he didn't want to let go of her. He really hated having one arm trapped in a sling.

"We should probably start a fire," Sarah said at last. She gave him a gentle squeeze before pulling away. They got to their feet together. Sarah took the flashlights and led the way back to the living room.

"What are you planning to burn?" House asked as they entered the room. There was nothing sitting around the fireplace – no tools, no kindling, and no wood.

"I've got some bits and pieces," Sarah said, making her way to the closet. She continued to talk as she opened the door, pulled out two large plastic tubs and slid them across the floor toward the hearth. "Apparently there is a beaver or a goat somewhere in Maggie's pedigree, because when I left the logs out by the fireplace she chewed on them."

"I've got some wood in my apartment too," House said, removing a lid. He found the tub was full of scraps of lumber. He lifted a square board that had a circle cut out of its center and gave her a quizzical look. Sarah laughed.

"Those are leftovers from my father's wood-working. Half the fun of using them is guessing which project they were used for."

"What about this one?" He peered at her through the circle, making her smile.

"I have no idea," Sarah admitted. "I'm going to run across the hall – be right back." She took one of the flashlights and headed out of the apartment. House lowered himself awkwardly to the floor in front of the fireplace and started moving some wood into it.

When she returned, Sarah's arms were full of logs and a bag was slung over her shoulder; she could barely stand upright under the combined weight of the items. House hated that he was unable to help her. She dropped the bag onto the couch and put the logs on the hearth.

"I brought you some changes of clothing so you're ready if Dr. Cuddy finds a way to get you to the hospital."

"You need to pack one for yourself," House told her.

"Ok." Sarah sounded doubtful.

"I'm not leaving you behind," House said firmly and Sarah smiled.

"Alright. Be right back." She collected a flashlight and disappeared down the hall to her bedroom.

House struggled to get the fire started but it was awkward having only one hand to use. He was about to remove his sling and try using his other arm when Sarah returned. She stopped him and took over the task. It didn't take her long to get a blaze going. House sat on the floor and watched her, feeling frustrated at his lack of ability.

Once the blaze was going nicely, Sarah brought in candles from the kitchen and set one at each end of the sofa table. She slid the wing-back chairs around to sit in front of the fireplace. Once again, House could do nothing but watch. He felt his frustration increasing as she struggled with the heavy furniture. Finally, Sarah dropped into one of the chairs. She smiled over at him, but her expression quickly changed from satisfaction to concern.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said tersely. He got up from the floor and moved to the other chair.

"You won't be in that sling much longer. As soon as you're out of it, I promise I'll let you do all the heavy lifting."

"Hmph." House didn't want to take his aggravation out on Sarah. He was still cringing inside at some of the things he'd said to her. A squeak from the floor interrupted his thoughts. He looked down to see Maggie staring up at him, her tail wagging tentatively. He moved his arm aside and the dog leapt up. She turned in the chair so she faced forward and wedged herself between the arm and his right thigh. He glanced at Sarah and found her watching him, smiling a little.

"Is she ok there?" Sarah asked. "I can move her."

"No, it's fine," House said. The warm pressure of Maggie's body felt good against his sore leg. He stroked her soft ears, enjoying the way they felt between his fingers. Sarah got to her feet and moved to the book-cases.

"You're planning to read? I don't think the candle-light is bright enough for that."  
"I have a book lamp. I thought maybe we could read to each other." Sarah looked over at him, just a quick glance, but he thought he detected a blush on her cheeks. "It has to be more interesting than sitting in the dark."

"Depends on the book," House said.

"What do you like to read?" Sarah asked, running her finger over the spines.

"Medical journals mostly. Once in a while I pick up a biography of a musician."

"You never read fiction?" Sarah was incredulous.

"Some of the biographies would probably qualify," House replied dryly and Sarah chuckled.

"I'm afraid most of what I have are either mystery novels or history books."

He shrugged. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and he didn't really care anyway. "Pick whatever you want."

Sarah selected a title from Rex Stout and got out her book lamp. She began to read, her soft voice bringing the story to life; the sarcastic edge to the dialogue appealed to him and made the characters interesting, a rare occurrence for him. House let his head fall back against the chair. Her gentle tone was soothing and before long he felt his eyes getting heavy. He let them shut, focusing on the sound of Sarah speaking.

A loud knock startled him. He jerked in the chair, sitting up straighter. He glanced over to see that Sarah had turned to look at the front door. The knock came again and Sarah got to her feet. House watched her, putting a hand on Maggie to keep her where she was. Sarah looked through the peephole and then moved quickly to unlock the door.

"Hey," called a familiar voice. "Is your power out?"

"No, we just decided that light and heat was over-rated," House snapped, getting awkwardly to his feet as Chase came into the apartment. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We came to get you," Chase said.

"Who's we?" Sarah asked, speaking before House could.

"Taub borrowed an SUV from one of his old colleagues. He picked up me and Remy and then we came here."

"Great," House muttered. He'd been dreading facing Chase and Thirteen; now he got to do it with Taub for an audience.

* * *

Thirteen's jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. She was in the middle of the bench seat, stuck between Taub and Chase. She hated it. She wanted something to grab onto but there was nothing – no handles, no arm-rests – nothing—and she kept sliding into people. Taub had the vehicle's radio playing softly to catch the latest updates and the djs were reporting on power outages throughout the town.

The big SUV chugged through the deep snow, but the driving winds buffeted the vehicle while also severely reducing visibility. Thirteen didn't think Taub ever managed a speed over 20 mph, and that was fine with her. She'd felt them fish-tail on more than one corner and was grateful the streets were deserted.

They skidded as they made another turn and Chase cursed softly.

"I thought this thing was 4-wheel-drive," he complained.

"Doesn't matter how many wheels you've got if you're on ice," Taub replied testily. "You two are sure about going to go get House?"

"Yes," Thirteen said firmly. When Chase said nothing, she glared at him. He looked sheepish.

"We're most of the way there already," he said half-heartedly. "We should go on." Thirteen sighed, feeling disappointed.

"Ok," Taub muttered.

In the end it took nearly an hour and a half to make the drive from her apartment to Baker Street. On a normal day, Thirteen could make it in 15 minutes. She breathed a sigh of relief as Taub slid to a stop in front of 221. He didn't bother to attempt parallel parking. Thirteen looked out the windows at the blowing snow and shivered. She wasn't thrilled about leaving warmth behind to battle snow and icy winds.

"I'll go in," Chase said as he unbuckled his seat belt. "You two stay here." He didn't wait for a response but opened the door and jumped down straight into a tall drift. Thirteen pulled the door shut behind him, shivering in the blast of cold air. She watched as he trudged through the snow and disappeared into the building.

"So…" Taub let his voice trail off. Thirteen turned to see he was arching his brows at her. She groaned.

"Why do you care so much who I'm dating?" she asked.

"So you and Chase _are_ dating now. Interesting."

"If that's what you find interesting, you really need to get a life," Thirteen muttered. She looked back to the building, wishing Chase would hurry up.

Taub shot her a wry look. "I'm married. I have to live vicariously."

Thirteen snorted. "Right. That's never stopped you before."

"It should have," Taub answered, to her surprise. "It probably should stop Chase too."

"Cameron's served him with divorce papers," Thirteen said.

"Oh." Thirteen almost smiled; it was as if she could see the wind leaking out of Taub's sails. She turned away from him and was relieved to see the door to 221 opening. Chase came out, a bag over one shoulder and Maggie's dog carrier in his hand. Thirteen undid her seat belt and leaned over the back of the seat to open the rear door as he reached the Hummer and climbed up, settling Maggie before jumping down again to help Sarah.

"Hi," Sarah said breathlessly as she clambered into the cab.

"Hello," Taub said. If he was surprised to know that Sarah was coming along, he didn't show it. Thirteen gave the woman a quick smile before turning to watch House struggling into the vehicle. He collapsed on the seat beside Sarah, his face drawn with pain. His right hand clamped over his thigh and he tipped his head back, closing his eyes.

"Here, slide over," Sarah said softly, moving aside so that House could comply. She took a seat on his right side, then reached for his leg. Much to Thirteen's surprise, House moved his hand aside. Thirteen quickly looked away, embarrassed by what she had seen. Chase hauled himself into the Hummer beside her and flashed a quick grin, his blonde hair frosted with melting snowflakes.

"Everybody fasten your seat-belts," Taub announced. "It's going to be a bumpy ride." Thirteen rolled her eyes as they lurched forward. They drove in silence for a few minutes before House spoke up.

"How many bricks are attached to your feet?" he demanded. Thirteen smiled to hear the familiar sarcasm in his voice.

"You're welcome for the rescue, House," Taub replied dryly.

* * *

Sarah could see that Greg was getting frustrated. First, he'd been unable to help her haul in the fire-wood from his apartment. Then he'd had trouble building the fire with only one hand, and finally he'd had to sit by and watch as she moved the wing-backed chairs over to the fireplace.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. He was still sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Sarah wasn't sure if she should offer to help him up or leave him alone.

"I'm fine." He got to his feet slowly and moved to the other chair.

"You won't be in that sling much longer," Sarah said lightly. "As soon as you're out of it, I promise I'll let you do all the heavy lifting."

"Hmph." Greg looked away from her, his expression thoughtful. Maggie walked over to his chair and looked up at him, squeaking softly. Sarah was about to call her back and then thought better of it. The dog's company might be just what Greg needed to lift his mood. He looked down at the dachshund and his lips twitched. Sarah winced when Maggie leapt into his lap and turned in the chair so that she faced forward. She wedged herself between Greg's bad leg and the chair's arm.

"Is she ok there? I can move her."

"No, it's fine," Greg said, rubbing Maggie's ears. Sarah watched them for a moment but Greg didn't appear uncomfortable. She got to her feet and moved to the book-cases.

"You're planning to read? I don't think the candle-light is bright enough for that."  
"I have a book lamp. I thought maybe we could read to each other." Sarah stole a glance at Greg, feeling her cheeks flushing. He probably thought the idea was stupid. "It has to be more interesting than sitting in the dark."

"Depends on the book."

"What do you like to read?" Sarah asked. She'd seen the bookcases in his apartment but she'd never looked at the titles. They'd spent very little time there.

"Medical journals mostly. Once in a while I pick up a biography of a musician."

Sarah looked over at him in surprise. "You never read fiction?"

"Some of the biographies would probably qualify," Greg answered and Sarah chuckled.

"I'm afraid most of what I have are either mystery novels or history books," she admitted, feeling apprehensive. The idea of reading aloud was seeming more foolish by the minute.

"Pick whatever you want," Greg said. Sarah wasn't sure if he was dismissing the idea as stupid of if he simply had no opinion about what they read. She chose a book by Rex Stout; she hoped that Archie Goodwin's sarcastic narrative might appeal to Greg. She got out her book lamp and started reading.

She stole glances at Greg from time to time. He'd let his head drop back against the chair's cushion, but the twitching of his lips as she read some of the dialogue told her he was still listening. A loud knock startled them both. Sarah jumped in her chair and turned to stare at the door. When the knock came again, she set the book aside and got to her feet. She could feel Greg's eyes on her as she made her way to the entry.

Sarah recognized Chase when she looked through the peephole. She quickly unlocked the deadbolt. "Hey," he said. "Is your power out?" He gave her a quick smile and a wink. Sarah bit her lip to keep from chuckling at his teasing.

"No, we just decided that light and heat was over-rated," Greg sneered. He got to his feet as Chase came into the apartment. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We came to get you," Chase said.

"Who's we?" Sarah asked, frowning at the blonde doctor. She still wasn't pleased that he'd told Remy about Greg's slip and fervently hoped he hadn't told anyone else.

"Taub borrowed an SUV from one of his old colleagues. He picked up me and Remy and then we came here," Chase said.

"Great," Greg muttered. Sarah could tell he was apprehensive; she felt her own nerves increasing. The apartment was going to get cold and they only had so much firewood, but was leaving it really a good idea? She didn't want to get stuck on the roads, and she was still nervous about the reception she'd receive at the hospital from Drs. Cuddy and Wilson.

"Are you all packed?" Chase asked, nodding at the two bags on the couch.

"Yeah. We just need to douse the fire," Greg said. "Right?" He looked at Sarah and she nodded.

"Yeah. I'll get one of the water jugs from the kitchen, and Maggie's food." She looked over at Chase. "Her carrier's in the closet. Would you mind getting it?"

"Sure," Chase said.

It only took a few minutes to put out the fire, get Maggie into her carrier, and bundle into their outdoor gear. Greg removed his sling so that he could have both arms in his coat. Sarah slung one of the bags over her shoulder and Chase took the other. He lifted Maggie's carrier and motioned for them to precede him out of the apartment.

The wind outside was biting but in spite of it, Sarah came to a halt on the sidewalk. A bright yellow Hummer sat in the street. For a second she just stared at it, until Maggie squeaked in protest at the cold. Sarah waved Chase ahead, still astonished at the sight before her. As he neared the vehicle someone inside opened the back door. He moved the dog into the seat, tossed the bag after her, and then turned to take Sarah's bag and help her into the car. She dropped into the bench seat, giving a breathless greeting to Remy and Dr. Taub, before turning to see how Greg was managing. He had his good arm up, grabbing a handle above the door. For a second he hung there, dividing his weight between his arm and his bad leg as he stepped up with his good leg. He made it into the vehicle and dropped to the seat, his face drawn with pain. His right hand clenched around his thigh and he let his head fall back.

Sarah touched Greg's shoulder gently. "Here, slide over." She moved aside so they could trade places. Once she was on his right Sarah reached over to touch his leg and Greg eased his hand away. Sarah started to massage the muscle as Chase climbed into the front seat.

"Everybody fasten your seat-belts," Dr. Taub announced from the driver's seat. "It's going to be a bumpy ride." The vehicle lurched forward and for a few minutes the only sounds were from the engine and the radio. Greg opened his eyes. Sarah lifted her hands as he sat up straighter.

"How many bricks are attached to your feet?" he demanded. Sarah bit back a laugh. She had wondered how Dr. Taub was managing to see over the steering wheel and reach the pedals at the same time.

"You're welcome for the rescue, House," Taub replied dryly.

"We do appreciate the lift," Sarah said quickly. Greg rolled his eyes at her and she fought the urge to tell him to behave.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: Insert the usual disclaimer here. Watching "Knight Fall" in the midst of working on this chapter really changed things up for me. I had originally thought that there might be a little levity once we reached PPTH, but I am now very concerned for House (isn't it amazing how much we can worry over a fictional character?). The chapter completely switched directions on me. Will there be levity ahead? I don't know - the muses and I are still conferring over chapter 26! If you are so inclined, I would greatly appreciate a word or two in review! Thanks as always to my beta, Brighid45, for her help and encouragement (and for not laughing too hard when I forget to attach the file)!  
**

House was aching by the time they reached the hospital. Taub had handled the Hummer carefully, but they were still rocked by massive gusts of wind and skidded on a few turns. The parking lot at PPTH had never been a more welcome sight. Taub slid the vehicle to a stop right outside the lobby doors with a flourish they all could have done without.

Climbing out of the vehicle had been just as painful as getting in. Chase had acted as House's spotter and kept him from falling face-first into the snow. Taub had left the vehicle where it was for the time being as they had all trooped into the lobby together. House's steps slowed as they entered the building. His shoes were wet and the tile floor already looked slick. He tightened his grip on his cane. The fellows moved slightly ahead of him on route for the elevator bank, but Sarah slowed her steps to match his. Cuddy emerged from the clinic waiting area just as House came level with the empty reception desk.

"House!" she called, striding swiftly toward him. "How did you get here?"

"My peeps came and got me," House said, gesturing slightly with his free hand toward the others. They came to a stop, turning to watch the exchange. Cuddy glanced over at them and her eyes narrowed.

"You were supposed to call if you found a way in," she told them.

"You're very welcome, Cuddy," House replied acidly. "It was no trouble at all, risking our lives with a midget driver, to get here and man your precious hospital." He sagged back against the desk as the throbbing in his leg increased.

"And what is _she_ doing here, with her dog? This is a hospital, not a motel." Cuddy shot a glare at Sarah before turning her frown back to him.

"I appreciate the warm place to stay, Dr. Cuddy," Sarah said sweetly.

"As I said, this is not a motel…" Cuddy began. Sarah cut her off, pinning a gentle smile in place.

"I realize that you must be very busy right now. I'm sure you were short-staffed what with the storm hitting at the end of a holiday weekend. If there's anything I can do to help…"

"Unless you're a doctor or a nurse, I don't see how you could be much help," Cuddy retorted, her voice full of scorn. House started to push himself off the counter, ready to lay into her, but Sarah's smile never wavered.

"I'm not a doctor or a nurse, but I can make coffee, answer phones, fetch and carry – I'll be glad to help in any way that I can."

"For the moment, you can help best by staying out of the way." Cuddy's face was flushed. House thought he saw amused grins on the faces of his fellows.

"Of course," Sarah said, her tone respectful. Cuddy frowned at her for a second, before she turned her gaze to the fellows. She began to question them about the Hummer outside.

"Let's get upstairs," Sarah murmured and House nodded. His leg was throbbing and he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it across the lobby. He and Sarah started forward. They were half-way to the elevator when his quadriceps began to tremble. He leaned more heavily on his cane, hoping to make it into the car before the leg locked up completely.

"Greg…"

"I'm fine," he muttered, staggering forward.

"Stop," Sarah said. She set Maggie's carrier down and reached for him. House jerked away, not wanting to collapse in front of Cuddy. Unfortunately, that only made matters worse. The inflamed muscles went into spasm and he started to fall. Sarah caught him, staggering under his weight. Pain shot through his left shoulder and for a second he saw bright spots in his darkening vision.

"House!" Thirteen's voice came from behind him. A moment later he felt a second set of hands on his back, supporting him with care.

"Get a wheel-chair," Chase ordered. He stepped up and drew House's right arm over his shoulders, taking the weight off of Sarah and Thirteen. "There's a bench over here. Can you make it?"

"Yeah," House muttered. Chase started to turn and House bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Stop," Sarah protested. "You're hurting him."

"We'll just wait for the chair," Chase said.

"I can make it," House protested.

"We'll wait," Chase repeated. With him refusing to move, there was nothing House could do. The pain in his shoulder was lessening but he could feel sweat running down his back.

"This has been happening a lot lately," Sarah murmured.

"How often?" Thirteen asked. House glared at her.

"It's fine," he growled.

"Yeah, I can see that," Thirteen replied, not flinching away from his stare.

"We'll need a heating pad," Sarah said quietly. "Maybe you could find one?"

"Sure," Thirteen said. "I'll get one and meet you up in the office."

"Thanks." Thirteen moved away just as Cuddy came up with a wheelchair. Chase helped House into it and stepped around to take the handles.

"Get me out of here," House muttered. He could feel Cuddy staring at him. He wasn't sure if he'd see concern or contempt in her face. He stared straight ahead as Chase wheeled him into the elevator. Sarah stepped in, carrying Maggie.

"Could you grab my bag?" she asked Chase.

"Sure." He stepped back out into the lobby and Sarah hit the door close button. House stared at her as the car began its ascent. She was frowning at him.

"We're trying to help," she said quietly enough, but he could see the impatience in her gaze.

"I know that," he muttered, looking away from her.

"Then stop being such a stubborn git and let us," Sarah said, her voice weary.

"I don't need…" House began.

"Right," Sarah snapped, cutting him off. "You didn't fall in my living room the other day, or wake up with a cramp so bad you could barely move this morning. And you didn't just almost fall in the lobby." Sarah closed her eyes and breathed out an exasperated sigh. "I know things have been tense the last few days and I'm sure that's part of this, but your leg…"

"Stop it," he snapped.

"I'm supposed to just stand by and do nothing while you're in agony?" Sarah shook her head at him. "Don't ask me to do that because I can't."

"I'm not asking you to do anything."

"I…" Sarah let her voice trail off, shaking her head again. House could see tears glittering in her eyes. She looked away from him as a blush stained her cheeks.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Sarah said with a shrug probably meant to look careless, but clearly indicating her resignation. She looked back at him as the first tears slipped down her cheeks. "I can't help you if you won't let me."

House felt his heart start to pound. He didn't know what to say, but the thought of her walking away terrified him. His chest grew tight and his pain intensified.

The elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor. Sarah started to move toward the doors. On impulse House reached out to catch her hand.

"I'm an idiot," he said quietly, not looking at her. "I'm just…not used to anyone…I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I," Sarah said.

"Please…don't give up on me," House said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He flinched, waiting for her to give him a final verbal slap and march out of the elevator.

* * *

Thirteen wanted to burst out laughing, watching Sarah and Cuddy. The angrier Cuddy got, the sweeter Sarah became. The only thing spoiling her enjoyment was seeing House sag against the reception counter. He was obviously in pain.

"For the moment, you can help best by staying out of the way," Cuddy snapped in response to Sarah's offer of help.

"Of course," Sarah said. Cuddy frowned at her for a second, before turning to glare at Thirteen, Chase, and Taub. "Whose vehicle is that?"

"Let's get upstairs," Sarah murmured and House nodded. Thirteen watched them as they started toward the elevators. House's leg was trembling.

"Dr. Hadley," Cuddy snapped, but Thirteen kept her eyes on House.

"Stop," Sarah told him, setting Maggie's carrier down. She reached for him but House jerked away. A second later he started to fall and Sarah stepped up to catch him. She staggered under his weight, flinching a little, and Thirteen rushed over to help.

"House!" His face was gray and for a moment, Thirteen thought he might pass out.

"Get a wheel-chair," Chase ordered. He stepped up and drew House's right arm over his shoulders, taking the weight off Sarah and Thirteen. "There's a bench over here. Can you make it?"

"Yeah," House muttered. Chase started to turn and House bit his lip.

"Stop," Sarah protested. "You're hurting him."

"We'll just wait for the chair," Chase said.

"I can make it," House insisted.

"We'll wait," Chase repeated.

"This has been happening a lot lately," Sarah murmured. She was frowning at House, clearly worried.

"How often?" Thirteen asked, ignoring House's glare. She'd been surprised to learn a few weeks ago that all he had for pain management now was ibuprofen. She'd wondered then if it could possibly be adequate and, based on Sarah's comment, it seemed that it wasn't.

"It's fine," he growled.

Thirteen arched her brows at him. "Yeah, I can see that."

"We'll need a heating pad," Sarah said quietly. "Maybe you could find one?"

"Sure. I'll get one and meet you up in the office."

"Thanks." Thirteen turned to head for the stairs and spotted Cuddy bringing out a wheel chair from the clinic. She quickened her steps even as her mind kicked into differential mode. What could be causing House's increasing leg pain and cramping? She knew he wouldn't answer her questions, but maybe she could talk to Sarah later and get more information.

Thirteen climbed the stairs to the second floor and made her way to physical therapy. She collected a heating pad and headed to the elevator. When the car arrived, she found Chase and Taub inside.

"Hey," she said. "Where's House?"

"With Sarah. She took him up on her own," Chase said. He looked like he was struggling with both concern and amusement.

"Trouble in paradise," murmured Taub. Thirteen glared at him. He shrugged.

"That's not funny," she snapped.

"I didn't say it was," Taub replied mildly.

"What do you think is wrong with House's leg?" Chase asked.

"Not sure yet. We should get an MRI to start," Thirteen said. The elevator reached the fourth floor and they stepped out, making their way toward Diagnostics.

"You're wasting your time," Taub said.

Thirteen was ready to strangle him. "The man is in pain…"

"That just means ibuprofen is a poor substitute for Vicodin."

Anger flared before she could stop it. "You …"

"Taub," Chase said, cutting Thirteen off. "Shut up."

"House is never going to let you do the MRI," Taub said. "I suppose we could drug him…"

"No," Thirteen said.

"Why not? We've done it before."

"That was a mistake," Thirteen said. She shuddered at the memory of watching House fall to the office floor. They'd all just stood there and watched him drop, never considering how he might be hurt. It had been cruel.

They stopped talking as they reached the conference room. The lights were still out and when they went inside, they saw that House's office was also empty.

"Where are they?" Chase asked.

"They should be here," Taub said. "They went up before us and we made another stop."

Thirteen felt sick. "We need to find them."

* * *

Sarah felt like she was fraying at the edges. The trip in the Hummer from Baker Street had been tense. Maggie had been squeaking in her carrier, the winds had buffeted the vehicle, they'd fish-tailed on several corners, and Greg had obviously been in pain. On top of all that, Sarah had found herself growing more and more apprehensive about the reception she'd receive once they reached the hospital. By the time they skidded to a stop in front of the doors, she wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry.

Dr. Cuddy had way-laid them in the lobby. Instead of expressing any appreciation for what they had gone through in getting there, she'd zeroed in on Sarah's presence. She'd launched into an attack, ignoring Greg's obvious pain. Sarah had gritted her teeth, remembering a chapter from _Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior_, and chosen to kill Cuddy with kindness. She'd breathed a sigh of relief when Cuddy turned her venom toward the fellows. She hadn't been sure how much longer she could maintain her sweet façade.

Sarah's relief had been short-lived. She and Greg had started toward the elevators but it was obvious that he was in trouble. She'd urged him to stop but he'd pushed on and wound up falling. Sarah had stepped up to catch him, wincing as she'd born part of his weight on her sore left arm. Remy and Chase quickly came to the rescue, but Greg had been stubborn about taking their help.

Sarah watched him, feeling sick to her stomach. "This has been happening a lot lately."

"How often?" Remy asked.

"It's fine," Greg growled, glaring at her.

"Yeah, I can see that," Remy replied, not flinching away from his stare.

"We'll need a heating pad," Sarah said quietly. "Maybe you could find one?"

"Sure. I'll get one and meet you up in the office."

"Thanks." Remy left and Cuddy approached with a wheelchair. Chase helped Greg into it and stepped around to take the handles.

"Get me out of here," Greg muttered, clearly embarrassed. Chase wheeled him into the elevator and Sarah stepped in, carrying Maggie. Her heart was pounding.

"Could you grab my bag?" she asked Chase. She hated to trick him this way but she wanted a moment alone with Greg.

"Sure." He stepped back out into the lobby and Sarah hit the door close button. Greg looked over at her questioningly and Sarah frowned at him. She sat Maggie's carrier down and tried to control the shaking of her hands.

"We're trying to help," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm.

"I know that," he muttered, looking away from her.

"Then stop being such a stubborn git and let us."

"I don't need…"

Sarah cut him off. "Right. You didn't fall in my living room the other day, or wake up with a cramp so bad you could barely move this morning. And you didn't just almost fall in the lobby." She closed her eyes and breathed out an exasperated sigh. "I know things have been tense the last few days and I'm sure that's part of this, but your leg…"

"Stop it," he snapped.

"I'm supposed to just stand by and do nothing while you're in agony?" Sarah shook her head at him. "Don't ask me to do that because I can't."

"I'm not asking you to do anything," Greg retorted, and Sarah felt her heart sink.

"I…" She let her voice trail off, shaking her head again. There was no point in going on. She looked away from Greg as tears welled up in her eyes. She felt utterly defeated.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Sarah said with a resigned shrug. She looked back at him, not bothering to fight the tears anymore. "I can't help you if you won't let me." Greg stared at her and she waited. Part of her hoped he would say something, anything to tell her that this wasn't a lost cause. Another part of her thought she was stupid for having that hope.

The elevator came to a stop on the fourth floor. She started toward the doors, intending to set Maggie in the hallway before moving Greg, and he reached out to catch her hand.

"I'm an idiot," he said softly, not looking at her. "I'm just…not used to anyone…I don't know how to do this."

"Neither do I," Sarah said.

"Please…don't give up on me." Greg's voice was so quiet that for a second Sarah wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly. She stared at him, feeling more tears welling up. Her eyes burned as they leaked out.

"I haven't," she said, crouching down so her face was level with his. The elevator alarm whined and the door slid shut. "It's just…every time I think we're ok…"

"I ruin it." Greg let her hand slip from his and stared down at his lap.

"I didn't say that! I'm not blaming _you_," Sarah protested. With a sigh, she sank down to sit on the elevator floor. "I'm saying this all wrong, as usual. I…care about you. I just don't know how to help you see that." She looked up at Greg but he was still staring at his hands and didn't meet her gaze. Maggie squeaked from inside her carrier and Sarah reached over to open the door, letting the little dog climb into her lap. She put her arms around the small furry body, taking comfort from the familiar sensation. Maggie looked anxious. Her ears were drooping and her eyes were worried. She looked from Sarah to Greg and back again.

"It's ok," Sarah whispered to her, hugging her a little tighter. She looked up at Greg again. He had lifted his head and was staring at the elevator doors. His face was still but she could see a range of emotions flashing through his eyes. She glanced away, not wanting to embarrass him by probing too deeply.

"I'll ask Chase and Thirteen to take a look at the leg," he said finally. Sarah lifted her head, unable to stop the tears of relief filling her eyes. Greg made a noise that was equal parts exasperation and hesitant tenderness. "Don't…don't cry. I thought that's what you wanted!"

"I'm crying 'cause I'm relieved, silly," Sarah said, smiling as she wiped her eyes.

Greg's lips twitched. "You called me a git."

"A stubborn git, actually."

"Hmph. So now I'm a stubborn, silly git."

"Yes," Sarah said. She was about to say more when the elevator doors opened behind her.

"There you are!" Chase's voice was full of relief. Sarah turned to look and saw that he was standing with Remy and Taub. Remy looked relieved while Taub looked perplexed.

"What are you doing in the elevator?" he asked.

"Never mind," Remy said, stepping in to the car. "We've got the heating pad in the office."

"Thanks," Sarah said. She held Maggie under her right arm and reached up with her left to grasp the hand Remy held out to her. She winced as she got to her feet.

"What'd you do to your arm?" Chase asked.

"She fell on it," Greg said. "I didn't feel any breaks but we should have it x-rayed to be sure."

"Ok," Chase said. The elevator started to whine again and Taub raised his arm to stop the doors from closing.

"We should move this discussion to the office," he said, reaching in to get Maggie's carrier. Remy took the handles of the wheelchair and Sarah stepped out into the hallway. They started for the Diagnostics office.

"I need you to schedule an MRI," Greg said quietly.

"Sure," Chase said. His tone was casual but he shot an admiring glance at Sarah. She looked away and felt her stomach drop. Wilson was walking down the hall toward them.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: You already know I don't own House but I'm supposed to keep saying it. I also want to say congratulations to my beta, Brighid45, for winning a RocktheHouse Award for her story "Treatment!" Congrats! "Treatment" is the first in Brighid's series and if you haven't checked them out yet, you should!**

**Thank you all for the reviews - you blew me away last chapter and I really appreciate it! Sorry this one took a little longer to get to you but the muse, though thrilled by the reviews, was being difficult. Of course, he claims that *I* was the difficult one.  
**

House shifted a little on the bed. He was so tired he ached with it, but sleep eluded him. He turned his head to study Sarah in the bed beside his. He could just make out her face in the dim light from the hallway; her eyes were shut and she was breathing deep and slow. The sight reassured him, though he also felt a touch of envy. He knew he needed to sleep - it was after midnight already and his MRI was scheduled for 6 am - but portions of the evening kept replaying in his mind. He couldn't shake a feeling of impending doom.

He'd felt drained when they'd stepped out of the elevator. From the moment he'd entered the hospital, he'd been pummeled with emotions: fury with Cuddy, humiliation over his weakness, an odd, murky terror that Sarah was going to leave, and then relief as well as bewilderment when she stayed. He'd asked Chase to schedule an MRI for him, feeling apprehension when he noticed the admiring glance Chase shot at Sarah. That mild dread had been replaced with something close to panic when he spotted Wilson coming toward them in the hall. Wilson's steps faltered as their eyes met. House had felt his heart start to pound. He was startled when Maggie emitted a low growl. He glanced over at her and saw that all the hair along her spine was standing up. When he looked back, Wilson was ducking into the stairwell.

House had sagged in the wheelchair, feeling sick. Sarah was stuck in a hospital full of people who knew what he was really like. Who knew what they'd tell her if given the chance? She hadn't rejected him during their confrontation in the elevator, but how much more would she take before she decided to wash her hands of him? There was no way he could keep her away from everyone; sooner or later she'd hear something that she couldn't handle.

When they reached his office, Sarah had helped House out of his coat and back into his sling. Thirteen had gone to the cafeteria to find dinner for everyone and Taub had offered to take Sarah to have her arm x-rayed. House had wanted to go with her, but Sarah reminded him that he was supposed to call Nolan. He'd reluctantly stayed behind and attempted the call, getting a recording saying the psychiatrist's phone was out of service. He'd made several attempts as the evening wore on, alternating between Nolan's cell phone and his office number. None of his calls had gone through and he'd grown more anxious with each attempt.

House looked back to Sarah. She was still sleeping, her hands tucked up under her pillow. The x-ray had confirmed that there were no breaks in her arm. House had watched her closely when she'd returned from radiology, but all he detected was exhaustion. No one had told her anything terrible yet. He'd been relieved when Thirteen announced she'd found a room they could use. He wasn't sure which of his fellows had done it, but when he and Sarah had arrived they'd found both beds pushed up against each other. Sarah hadn't protested the arrangement and neither had he. It was comforting to have her close even though he feared it might be the last time she'd agree to it.

A lump under the blanket beside Sarah moved and a second later Maggie poked her head out. House saw her tail start to wag when she looked at him and he raised a finger to his lips. He immediately felt foolish for thinking that the dog would understand what he meant. She crawled out from under the blanket and moved to the edge of Sarah's bed. House reached out to her as she stepped over onto his side . The dog hopped up under his arm, leaning against him in her version of a hug. House ran his hand along her sleek fur and sighed.

"Dog thief," Sarah murmured. He jumped at the sound of her voice, feeling guilty. He looked over to see her smiling sleepily at him.

"It wasn't my idea," he said.

"A likely story." Sarah covered a yawn with her hand and propped herself up on her elbow, wincing a little. House could see the bruising on her arm as her pajama sleeve slid down. "She didn't wake you, did she?"

"She's fine. Go back to sleep."

"Is something bothering you?" Sarah asked. She reached out to catch his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"You…you should go back to sleep," he said, trying to avoid her question even as he knew it was a useless evasion.

"What is it? Are you worrying about the MRI?"

"It's a waste of time," House said, sighing. "My leg is never going to get better."

"I know they can't undo the damage, but maybe they can help with the pain…"

"Maybe." House looked over at her. "Why are you so sure they can do something?"

"Why are you so certain that they can't? Do you already know…"

"No," House said quickly, looking back to the ceiling.

"You figure out diagnoses that other doctors can't, but you haven't tried to diagnose this?"

"No." The word came out harsher than he'd intended. House was certain he'd see hurt or anger in her face, but when he dared to look over at her, her expression was thoughtful.

"If you had a patient in these circumstances, what would you tell him to do?" she asked.

"I wouldn't talk to him at all. That's what I have minions for."

"Greg…" Sarah sighed. "I know that there's probably no solution that will make all the pain stop, and that…sucks. And I know that word is inadequate but it's all I can come up with right now…" He looked over at her and saw her drop her head back to the pillow. She looked exhausted. He cringed inside, thinking of all he had put her through in the past few days.

"We should both go to sleep," he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I just don't want you to give up," Sarah said softly. Her eyes kept closing as she fought to stay awake—for him, he knew. His guilt urged him to say something, to offer comfort.

"I won't," he told her, and watched as she finally gave in, her breathing deepening. He studied her for what felt like a long time before sleep claimed him as well.

* * *

Thirteen smothered a yawn as she entered the cafeteria. She'd spent half the night helping in the ER and had only caught a catnap. Her eyes felt gritty and her limbs leaden, but she had to be upstairs for House's MRI in half-an-hour. She made her way through the cafeteria line, intent on getting coffee and getting out. She didn't even notice Wilson as he stepped up beside her.

"Dr. Hadley," he said. Thirteen jumped in surprise, sloshing hot coffee all over her hand and dropping the foam cup.

"Ouch! Dammit," she muttered. She'd been glad when Wilson had ducked into the stairs the night before but she should have known he wouldn't stay hidden for long. She reached for napkins and he held out a handful, looking sheepish.

"Sorry," he said, stooping to retrieve the cup. Thirteen reluctantly took the napkins from him.

"It's fine," she muttered, wiping off her hands. She reached for a new container and started to fill it. She could feel Wilson watching her. Under his scrutiny her grip trembled a little. _What does he want? _she thought, watching dark liquid swirl into the container.

"Do you have a minute?" he asked.

"Not really," Thirteen said. She carefully put the lid on her coffee cup and started for the exit. To her annoyance, Wilson fell into step with her.

"What's going on with House?" he asked. His tone held just the right note of concern. "Last night…"

"If you want to know what's happening, I'd suggest you ask him," Thirteen said brusquely. She tried to move a little faster, but Wilson easily matched her stride.

"Why are you being so…hostile?" he asked. He caught her arm and with a groan, Thirteen turned to face him. His wounded-puppy expression only served to irritate her more.

"What do you really want, Dr. Wilson?"

"I want to know that my friend is ok. He's been so…different since he met Sarah…"

"You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Wilson protested. "I'm just…concerned." His eyes were wide and earnest, but Thirteen thought she could see the calculation behind them. She felt her temper flare even as she cautioned herself to be careful. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal House's slip to this man.

"Oh, _now_ you're concerned?" She could feel her hands shaking again and wrapped them both around her cup, willing them not to tremble.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Wilson demanded.

"You threw him out of your apartment and spent two weeks ignoring him. And instead of falling apart, he went on with his life and met someone new…"

"Whose crazed ex-whatever attacked him!"

"Oh please! That is not what this is about!"

"You know House," Wilson said, adopting his most I-am-being-reasonable tone. "You know how…self-destructive he can be…" Thirteen shook her head, feeling her anger rise even more as she thought about the bottles of pills she and Chase had removed from the conference room.

"That isn't what this is about either," she said. Her voice was shaking now along with her hands.

"I am not…"

"Come off it! You've spent years being the martyr – the one and only person who can tolerate House – and you've loved it. All the sympathy, all the people shaking their heads in wonder, asking how you can stand him - you got off on it."

Wilson lowered his brows, obviously trying to look offended but not quite able to pull it off. "That's ridiculous."

"What it is is pathetic," Thirteen snapped. "He's met someone else, someone who really seems to care about him, and all you can think about is how it affects you!"

The older man stared at her, his mouth open in obvious surprise at her honesty. It was the first truly genuine expression she had seen from him all morning. "I—I don't know what you mean."

"I don't have time for this." With a shake of her head Thirteen spun on her heel and stalked away. When she reached the elevator her hands were shaking so badly that she threw her coffee in the trash without taking a drink. _Who needs caffeine when you can start the day with an argument?_ she thought as she stepped into the elevator and blew out a long breath, trying to steady herself. She had to calm down before she saw House.

* * *

When Sarah woke up, the bed beside hers was empty, save for a Maggie-sized lump. A folded piece of paper rested on the pillow and she picked it up. The handwriting was nearly illegible and it took her a moment to decipher it. _Well, he's a typical doctor in this one thing at least,_ she thought.

_Went for MRI. Chase took Maggie out at 5:30. Go back to sleep. – G_

Sarah sank back in her bed and breathed a sigh of relief. Greg had been so doubtful last night that she'd feared he'd refuse the MRI. She smiled as a surge of hope filled her. _It's just one test_, she reminded herself. _There are probably many more ahead._

She slipped out of bed, giving the Maggie-lump a little pat, and carried her bag into the bathroom to change. She wondered who had come up with the idea of a hospital full of glass walls. She couldn't imagine that the patients appreciated being so exposed.

She'd just finished braiding her hair when she heard the door to the room slide open. She stepped out of the bathroom to see Chris Taub standing near her bed, holding a tray laden with foam containers. She could smell coffee and her stomach rumbled.

"Thank you," she said. "I should feed Maggie…"

"I brought something for her too," Taub said, lifting a Styrofoam bowl from the tray. Sarah stepped closer and saw that it was full of kibble.

"Thanks," she said. Maggie poked her head out from under the covers, her nose twitching. Sarah lifted the dog, setting her down on the floor as Taub put the food in front of her.

"I'll get her some water," he said, removing another bowl from the tray and heading for the bathroom. Sarah moved around the bed to investigate the rest of the offerings. She found a container of scrambled eggs and another of pancakes. There were pieces of toast on a plate and packets of butter and maple syrup, as well as two cups of coffee.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," Taub said, returning with a bowl of water. He put it down for Maggie and reached out to claim one of the coffee cups.

"The eggs will be fine," Sarah said. "Thank you." She lifted the appropriate container and took a seat in the room's only chair. It was hard as a rock. _Why is institutional furniture always so uncomfortable?_ she wondered.

"How's the arm?"

Sarah paused with a forkful of eggs en route to her mouth. "It's tender," she admitted.

"How about your hand? It's nearly time for those stitches to come out."

"My hand's fine," Sarah said. She looked at the eggs and Taub glanced away, plainly embarrassed.

"I'll let you eat," he said. He leaned back against the bed and it shifted. Sarah stifled a laugh as he scrambled to stay on his feet. He tugged on his lab coat to straighten it, obviously trying to regain some lost dignity, and hopped up onto the bed, choosing the container of pancakes. For a few minutes they ate in silence.

"So…" Taub said, setting aside his empty container. "You and House…"

Sarah sighed. "I appreciate you buying me breakfast and I'll gladly pay you back, but not with fodder for the hospital gossip mill." She handed over her own empty container and Taub added it to the tray.

"I'm not looking for gossip," he said. "I'm just curious."

"Right," Sarah said, shifting in the uncomfortable chair. "I'm sure the hospital grapevine has been working overtime ever since Greg got hurt."

"Let me think…so far you've been House's long-lost daughter, Wilson's long-lost daughter, Wilson's niece, a hooker with a heart of gold…" Taub stopped because Sarah was laughing. He smiled at her. "I'd rather know the truth."

Sarah shook her head, still chuckling. "The rumors are far more fun."

"I feel at a disadvantage," Taub persisted. "You must know so much about me and I don't know a thing about you."

"Why would you think that?"

"I'm sure House told you all about us – that I was a plastic surgeon…"

Sarah put up a hand to stop him. "Greg has never told me anything about you – about any of you."

"Really?" Taub was incredulous.

"He doesn't talk about work," Sarah said. "Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Not talking about work I can believe. Not talking about the team…" Taub gave a shrug, his disbelief obvious.

"He hasn't discussed _any_ of you with me," Sarah said firmly.

"Ok." Taub was plainly still doubtful. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, until he spoke again.

"The way you handled Cuddy yesterday was hilarious. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears."

"Haven't you ever heard of killing someone with kindness?" Sarah asked.

"Is that what you used on House?"

"I didn't _use_ anything on him." Sarah was getting annoyed.

"You got him to ask for the MRI. You must have done something."

"He's in a lot of pain. You don't think that's enough motivation?"

"He's been in pain for years." Taub sounded cynical. "This is the first time he's ever asked for help."

"How many times did you offer?" Sarah asked, and almost laughed as Taub's eyes widened.

"We…he wouldn't have…" he stuttered. "We never did."

His answer shocked her. _None of them __ever__ offered? What kind of people does Greg work with? _"What do I owe you for breakfast?" Sarah asked, getting to her feet. Her earlier amusement had vanished and now all she wanted was to be rid of this man.

"You think that if we'd offered…" Taub shook his head. "I don't think House would have accepted our help."

"Well, there's no way to know now, is there?" Sarah replied tersely. She gathered up her bag and moved to get Maggie. "I won't be in the way if I go down to Greg's office, will I?" She didn't wait for an answer before stalking out of the room.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: Hello, dear patient Readers! I apologize for this chapter being so long in coming and so brief. After watching "The Choice" I was so upset that I couldn't write for two days. Wilson was called just about every name in the book. At one point my husband looked at me and said, "It's only a TV show..." He got one look at my face and wisely shut up! Fortunately, I had my marvelous beta, Brighid45, to turn to. And I am also happy to report that chapter 28 is well under way and considerably longer than this one! Thanks for your patience!**

Chase woke House shortly before 5:30. A quick look showed him that Sarah was still sleeping and he motioned for Chase to keep quiet. The younger man nodded. He held out a hospital gown and House frowned. A pantomime argument followed. When Maggie poked her head out of the covers, House relented. He didn't want to wake Sarah too. He snatched the gown away from Chase with a grimace and moved to get out of the bed. His leg was sore but it held and he made his way into the bathroom to change.

When he came out a few minutes later, clad in gown and slippers, Chase and Maggie were gone. He found a notepad in the end-table and scrawled a note for Sarah. Chase returned with the dog a few minutes later. Maggie crawled under the covers and curled into a ball. House was tempted to follow her; the MRI was sure to be a waste of time. He thought about how anxious Sarah had been the night before. With a sigh, he propped the note on his pillow and followed Chase out of the room.

Thirteen was waiting in the hall with a wheel-chair.

"I don't need that," House growled.

"I'd rather not pick you up off the floor this morning," Thirteen responded. House frowned, noting her flushed face, tight jaw, and flashing eyes. He looked at Chase; the younger man's features were calm. Thirteen wasn't arguing with _him_. He looked back at her and she gave an exasperated sigh, loosening one hand from her white-knuckled grip on the chair's handles.

"Fine." She gestured for him to go ahead. He noted the way her hand trembled. Was that all the result of an argument, or was the Huntington's progressing? Thirteen's flush deepened and she replaced her hold on the handle. With a grunt, House moved to sit in the chair. He sat back, breathing a sigh of relief as the throbbing in his leg lessened.

As they moved down the hallway he let his mind drift, considering the possible causes for Thirteen's tremors. She'd been arguing with _someone_. There was also a damp coffee-stain on the cuff of her lab-coat. Caffeine plus adrenaline could have caused the trembling. He cast his mind back over the past few weeks, trying to recall if she'd shown any other symptoms that would indicate her Huntington's was progressing.

Their arrival in Imaging disrupted House's thoughts. His bad leg trembled as he got to his feet. He managed to hop up onto the tray and stretch out. As it slid into the machine with a jerk he winced. The knocking and clunking sounds began and House closed his eyes. If he stared at the white-walls, he'd start to feel closed in. Better to try to take a nap.

House let his mind drift. His stomach twisted uncomfortably as he thought about Wilson. He should've gone after him last night and told him in no uncertain terms to leave Sarah alone. She deserved better from him, after all she'd tolerated. He hoped she was still sleeping; she had looked exhausted last night.

"House, you doing ok?" Chase's voice came over the speaker, sounding tinny and hollow.

"Fine," House snarled. He'd forgotten about the camera; they could see that he had his eyes shut on the monitor in the control room. He jumped as he heard the door to the imaging room bang open.

"What's going on in here?" House cringed as he recognized Foreman's voice. The control room door opened.

"We scheduled this machine last night," Thirteen retorted.

"I've got a patient from the ER – head injury. Is this a critical case?" Foreman demanded.

"Oh for the love of…somebody get me the hell out of this thing," House demanded. Foreman was one of the last people he wanted to encounter while clad in a hospital gown, but he didn't see any way to avoid it.

"Is that…House? What's going on in here?" Foreman sounded stunned.

"Yes and none of your business," Chase answered tersely. A second later the tray began to move, sliding House back out into the room. He sat up as soon as his head was clear.

"You're having your leg scanned? Why?" Anger and curiosity warred for dominance on Foreman's face. House wasn't surprised to see anger winning.

"I'll get the chair," Thirteen muttered, starting for the door.

"No," House snapped. "I can walk." He swung his legs over the side, ignoring a twinge from his mangled thigh, and prepared to stand up. "Where's my cane?"

"I'll get it," Thirteen replied, sounding resigned. She went on out of the imaging room. House glared at Foreman and the younger man turned his glower from Chase back to House. _I guess he knows about Chase and Thirteen_, House thought.

"What are you doing?" Foreman demanded.

"I'll be leaving as soon as I have my cane," House snapped. "Don't you have a real patient to be worried about?"

"Your leg…" Foreman let his voice trail off as Thirteen returned with both the wheelchair and the cane. She lifted the cane from the seat and House snatched it away. He got carefully to his feet and started forward. Chase moved ahead to get the door for him and he could hear Thirteen following with the chair.

* * *

Thirteen and Chase followed House away from Imaging with the wheelchair. Thirteen was seething inside. Of all the doctors to hijack their time in the MRI, why did it have to be Foreman? He'd been so obnoxious! Now she was afraid that House would use this as an excuse to not have the test at all.

House was ahead of her, limping down the hall at a pretty good clip. He came to a stop half-way to the elevator and let her catch up. With a grimace, he sank into the seat of the wheelchair.

"We'll reschedule the test," Chase said. "I pulled all your medical files. I thought maybe if we looked at the surgeon's notes…"

"You're wasting your time," House growled.

"It's our time to waste," Thirteen said.

"Hmph." House looked away, but not before Thirteen saw something pass over his face. For a second she thought it might be gratitude.

"Look, I'll take House back to his room. Why don't you go on and start looking at the files?" Chase suggested. Thirteen nodded and moved aside so that he could take the chair's handles. House glanced back at him, his face composed once more, and waved his hand.

"Onward, Driver," he commanded. With a laugh, Chase started toward the elevator. Thirteen made for the stairs and jogged down the flights to the fourth floor.

When she entered the conference room she found Taub digging through a large box of files. He looked up as she came in.

"What are all these?" he asked, indicating the files.

"House's medical records. Chase thought if we went back through them, especially the surgeon's notes, we might find some clues." Thirteen stepped forward and pulled out a file, smirking as she read the patient name _Luke N. Laura_ on the label.

"How'd the MRI go?" Taub asked. He was trying to sound casual and failing miserably. Thirteen frowned. She looked over at House's office and spotted Sarah inside. She was pacing back and forth, her brows drawn together and her arms folded across her chest. Thirteen turned her gaze back to Taub. He seemed to be shrinking.

"What happened to ibuprofen being a poor substitute for Vicodin?" she demanded.

"I…got curious," Taub said with a shrug.

"Really." Thirteen narrowed her eyes at him.

"Really," Taub replied. There was a slight waver to his voice.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I…nothing. Why would you think…"

"You're acting guilty, and Sarah looks pissed. What did you do?"

"I…nothing," he protested.

"Then why is she wearing a path in House's carpet?"

"I...I don't…"

"Never mind," Thirteen said. "I'll talk to her myself." She turned and headed for House's office. She swallowed nervously as she reached the door. Sarah seemed to be muttering to herself. Taking a deep breath, Thirteen pulled open the door and went inside.

* * *

The more Sarah thought about her conversation with Chris Taub, the angrier she got. He'd _never_ offered Greg any help with his pain? What kind of person was he? She paced Greg's office as her agitation grew. What about the rest of Greg's fellows? Had _all_ of them ignored his suffering? She felt sick at the thought. She'd liked Remy and Chase; now she had to wonder if she'd misread them.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice the door from the conference room open. She turned in her pacing and nearly collided with Remy.

"Sarah? Is everything ok?"

"No, it is not," Sarah replied. She could feel her hands starting to shake.

"Is it something Taub said…"

Sarah held up a hand to stop her. "At this point, I'm not sure I should trust any of you."

"Sarah…" Remy tried to speak but Sarah felt like she was going to burst. She was so angry she imagined her blood actually was boiling. The words exploded out of her like lava from a volcano.

"What kind of jacked-up lunatic place is this? Wilson wrote prescriptions for Greg, even after it must have become obvious that Greg had a problem. Greg treated patients while high on Vicodin, and no one in this hospital thought _that_ was a problem. He hallucinated while working and no one noticed until he went to the balcony and made…made an announcement." Sarah cringed, remembering the look in Wilson's eyes when he'd told her about Greg's hallucinations.

"Sarah…" Remy tried again, but Sarah wasn't ready to stop.

"And then, after he goes to the hospital and gets clean, not a one of you thinks to ask him about his pain! At one point some doctor thought that a prescription for Vicodin was warranted but he comes back and you all think that ibuprofen alone is sufficient now? That's ridiculous!"

"Sarah…"

"He's told to stay with someone, but when he leaves Wilson's apartment, no one asks if he's ok. Worse, one of you can't wait to run to Dr. Cuddy and tattle. And when Dr. Nolan calls Chase for help, Chase immediately tells you all about it. Who else did he tell? Why should I trust _any_ of you?"

"Sarah I…I'm sorry. You're right, about all of it. We…we made mistakes."

She gave Remy an incredulous stare. "_Mistakes_!"

"I know that's not a strong enough word…"

"What kind of doctors are you people? What happened to 'first do no harm'?"

"You're right," Remy said quietly. "I…I am sick, thinking about all the times I watched House take those pills. I hardly noticed it after a while. We all enabled his addiction, not just Wilson."

"Then you can see why I have trouble trusting you now." Sarah glared at Remy. The other woman ducked her head, a flush creeping up her face. She picked nervously at one cuff of her lab-coat for a moment before speaking again.

"I know Chase shouldn't have told me about the phone call from Dr. Nolan. We were here, together, when he got it and…that's not an excuse. I know that. But he hasn't told anyone else about it and neither have I. We're not going to tell anyone. I promise." She looked up at Sarah, her eyes wide and pleading.

"I'd like to believe you," Sarah said, shaking her head. She used to think she was good at reading people, before Todd. Her intuition said she could trust Remy, but she wasn't sure she could trust her gut.

"You can believe me," Remy said. Sarah stared at her for a moment. She could feel her heart pounding. Either she trusted her instincts or she didn't. And if she didn't, then where did that leave her? Those same instincts told her Greg was worth fighting for.

"Are you serious about helping him with his leg?" she asked at last.

"Yes!" Remy cried. "There was an emergency so we got bumped out of the MRI this morning, but we'll reschedule it. I'm not going to give up on this."

"What are you going to do now?" Sarah asked.

Remy gestured toward the conference room. "We have a box of House's medical records going all the way back to the surgery on his leg. Chase pulled them and we're going to go through them all."

"Ok," Sarah said. Her heart was slowing down but her hands were still shaking.

"Chase took Greg back to the room to get changed. I'm sure they'll be here shortly. We can watch Maggie if you want to take him to breakfast."

"Alright. I'll…I'll let you get back to work." Remy nodded and went back into the conference room. Sarah watched her dig into the box and pull out a file before moving to take a seat in Greg's Eames chair. She sank back, feeling drained. Maggie squeaked at her from her spot on the foot-stool and Sarah moved over enough to make room for the dog beside her. She let her head fall back against the cushions and closed her eyes.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: Don't own House. If I did, well we would not have been subjected to that drivel last night (if you haven't seen season 6's finale, don't read the rest of this note). I'll skip over the ludicrousness of sending the administrator and the cripple to the accident scene or shipping critically injured patients from Trenton all the way to Princeton. My biggest complaint is with the last 5 minutes. The notion that House, torn up over the loss of Hanna, the incredibly cruel and heartless things Cuddy said to him, and in physical pain from crawling through rubble, would just magically get ALL better the moment Cuddy arrived in his bathroom - well, it's insulting to anyone who's ever suffered from chronic pain or clinical depression. I was all worked up and THAT was what they gave me? I was sick with disappointment. I don't know who that man in the bathroom was but it certainly wasn't the Greg House we've come to know and love over the past 6 years. Will I watch next season? Probably - but it'll be like driving past a wreck. You know you shouldn't but you can't help but rubber-neck.  
**

**Ok - cleansing breaths. Ranting over. On with this story, in which I like to think Greg House remains in character.**

House felt himself growing more anxious the closer they got to his office. He and Chase had found his room empty. A tray of empty food containers rested on one of the beds; it appeared that someone had brought Sarah breakfast. House felt apprehension forming a knot in his stomach. The only people he'd want talking with Sarah right now were Chase and Thirteen, and they'd been with him.

By the time he'd finished getting dressed, his leg had been trembling. Chase had offered the wheelchair and he'd reluctantly dropped into it, sitting back as Chase wheeled him to the elevator for the ride down to the 4th floor. It was only a short distance to travel, but the car seemed to be stopping at every floor. House stared fixedly at his hands, not wanting to meet the eyes of any of the other passengers. He could feel them looking at him and imagined the conversations that would take place once he left.

They finally reached their destination and Chase wheeled him out.

"Seriously, House," he said loudly. "I know I lost the bet and all but you're really going to make me haul you all the way to the office?" House heard snickers from the elevator car before the doors slid shut. Gratitude mingled with alarm. He appreciated Chase's quick thinking and attempt to cover for him, but he was dismayed to realize that his feelings had been so obvious to his fellow.

"You didn't need to do that," he said quietly.

"Inside of an hour there will be a pool going about what sort of bet I lost," Chase replied calmly. "If I play this right, I'll take a lot of cash off that bunch of nosy parkers."

House grunted in reply, shifting to sit up straighter in the chair as they neared his office. Chase brought him into the conference room, where Taub and Thirteen were digging through a large box of files.

"Where's Sarah?" he demanded, ignoring their greetings. There was a pause as Thirteen and Taub exchanged glances. House glared at them, feeling his heart-rate quicken. _What did they do that's got them so nervous?_

"She's in your office," Thirteen said at last.

"Let's go," House snapped when no one moved. Chase started him forward and Thirteen moved to open the door.

Sarah was in his Eames chair, her head leaning back against the head-rest, with Maggie beside her. She sat up as he came into the room, a smile spreading across her face. House felt himself returning it as a few of the knots in his stomach eased. He barely noticed Chase's hasty retreat.

"Good morning," Sarah said, getting to her feet. Maggie wagged her tail but didn't offer to move from the chair.

"You could have slept in," House said, noting the shadows under her eyes.

"I slept enough," Sarah answered lightly. "Are you alright?" She reached out to touch his face softly and he closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the feel of her hand against his cheek. When she started to pull back, he caught her hand. She returned his grasp, smiling once more.

"Someone brought you breakfast," he said, feeling the remaining knot in his stomach tighten. Tension lines formed around Sarah's eyes for a moment as she answered him.

"Dr. Taub brought some food up," she said. "What about you? I heard your test got interrupted. Have you eaten?" House's stomach gave a rumble and her smile broadened. "I guess not."

"No, not yet." He let go of her hand reluctantly and scooted forward in the wheelchair, preparing to stand up.

"Don't," Sarah protested. "Stay put. I need to take Maggie out, but then I'll go down to the cafeteria with you."

"There's a courtyard nearby," House said. "It's pretty sheltered. You can take her out there."

"They aren't going to want a dog in the cafeteria," Sarah protested. "We'll have to bring her back up here."

"We'll tell them she's my service dog," he replied.

"And how exactly is she going to help you?" Sarah asked, clearly amused.

"She'll keep me from hitting people who annoy me."

"Greg…" Sarah shook her head at him, her lips twitching.

"If they pitch a fit, we can take turns waiting in the hallway with her and get the food to go," he said.

"Fine. We'll take her along, _if_ you stay in the wheel-chair." House wanted to protest, but his leg was aching and Sarah, though smiling, looked determined. With a sigh, he sank back in the chair's seat.

They didn't pass anyone on their way to the cafeteria, much to House's relief. Chase's lost bet story would lose all credibility if any of the people from the elevator saw him with Sarah. He directed her to the court-yard and she settled him in an alcove while she bundled up and took Maggie outside.

He slumped in the chair, feeling weary. His mostly sleepless night was catching up with him. His eyes felt gritty and he closed them, intending to rest them for a minute. He still hadn't found out what had his fellows so nervous. Sarah had been annoyed at the thought of Taub, but that was perfectly understandable. Taub _was_ annoying. House smirked at the thought. He wasn't thinking clearly and he gave in, letting his mind drift.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed but suddenly he was aware of movement. He jerked up in the chair, turning to see who was pushing it; Sarah would have woken him before moving him. He glared at the scrub-clad young man at the handles of his chair.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. The young man smiled blankly at him.

"We'll get you some pudding in the cafeteria," he said brightly. His voice was a little too loud. House spotted his ear-buds a second later. He reached for the cords, intending to pull them out of the man's ears but his chauffer leaned back, moving out of range. He wished he hadn't left his cane upstairs; he could have used it to hook the cords, or smack the moron so he'd pay attention.

"Naughty, naughty," the idiot chided. "Don't you want pudding?" House growled in frustration. Short of attempting to stand up, which would be difficult even if the chair was still, he seemed to be trapped. At least they were heading to the cafeteria, just as he and Sarah had planned. He hoped she'd find him there.

The scrub-clad fool wheeled him in to the cafeteria and headed him toward a large table. A half-dozen people, most in wheelchairs, sat around it.

"Found a straggler," sang out Moron, pushing House up between a man on a chair and a woman in a wheelchair. He moved off and House glared after him. Everyone at the table looked to be at least 80. _How old does he think I am?_ House wondered. _I can't look like I belong with these fossils!_

"Who are you, Sonny?" demanded the man on his right. House shifted his glower to him.

"Who the hell are you?" he shot back.

"Temper, temper," chided the woman on his left. For a moment he was reminded of his mother, but when he turned his gaze to her, the woman's faded blue eyes were sparkling. "You seem to be in the wrong place, young man."

"I am," he replied, reigning in his anger. This woman wasn't responsible for the mix-up.

"We're all from the Whispering Pines nursing home," the woman told him, gesturing to include the whole group. "Part of the roof collapsed under the snow and they brought us in. It's been quite exciting, if a little worrisome. How did you wind up here?"

"I work here," House replied.

"As what? A wheelchair tester?" House turned to see the man on his right grinning at him.

"It's a dirty job," he said with a half-shrug and the man's grin widened. House started to say more, but Moron was back. He carried a tray of pudding cups and plastic wrapped spoons and moved around the table distributing them. He still had the ear-buds in and was bopping his head to the beat of whatever he was listening to.

"There ya go," he said perkily. "Now, you eat up and I'll go find out where our rooms are, ok?" He bopped off before anyone could say a word.

"Now that the idiot's gone, who wants to play cards?" demanded the man on his right. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a stack of playing cards. House noted that the bundle was too large to be a single deck and wondered what game the man had in mind.

"Oh, Bob, let us eat our pudding," complained a man across the table.

"Well, hurry up about it," Bob replied, working a rubber-band off the stack. He began to move the faded cards through his hands, shuffling with practiced ease despite his gnarled fingers. "You play cards, Sonny?" he asked, looking at House with a gleam in his eye.

* * *

Thirteen watched nervously as Chase brought House into his office. Sarah had seemed to calm enough when they'd finished talking, but Thirteen had no idea what she'd say to House and she couldn't fault her for being suspicious of everyone at PPTH. They _had_ treated House cruelly. The more she thought about it, the sicker Thirteen felt.

Chase left House in the office and returned to the conference room. He arched a brow at Thirteen.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Sarah's…upset," Thirteen said quietly, glancing at Taub. If she shared all of her conversation with Sarah in front of him, she'd be revealing House's slip and confirming Sarah's suspicions.

"I'll give you two a few minutes," Taub said, starting for the hall door. Thirteen stared at him in surprise. She kept staring, even as the door swung shut behind him.

"Remy," Chase prompted, and she tore her gaze away from Taub's retreating back to look at him. "You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Sarah...doesn't feel she can trust us," Thirteen said quietly. She glanced into House's office and saw that Sarah was taking him into the hallway. She watched as they passed by the conference room, heading toward the elevators. Sarah had her coat over one arm and Maggie was riding in House's lap. As soon as they were out of sight, Thirteen turned back to Chase and continued.

"When I got here, Taub was looking at the files and Sarah was pacing in House's office. She looked angry and he was… sheepish, so I asked him what happened and when he wouldn't give me a straight answer, I went to ask her what was wrong. She blasted me – said she didn't see why she should trust any of us."

"What the hell did Taub say to her this morning?" Chase asked.

"It's not Taub. At least, it's not just Taub. Think about it, Robert. Wilson kept writing scripts for House even after it was clear that House had a problem. House treated patients while high and no one did a thing about it. He hallucinated and we didn't catch on until he made his announcement about Cuddy. And when he got back from Mayfield, none of us asked him about his pain." Thirteen stopped, her heart pounding. She hadn't come to the worst of it yet.

"House would have taken our heads off if we'd asked," Chase said. "You know that."

"I don't know that, and neither do you, since none of us asked. I agree that that's what he'd have done _before_, but the man hallucinated, detoxed and underwent psychotherapy. It's ridiculous to assume that didn't change him at all."

"He is different around Sarah," Chase admitted.

"We've all treated him as if nothing happened. Maybe if we gave him the chance, he'd be different around us too."

"Maybe." Chase still sounded skeptical.

"There's more. Sarah's upset that you told me about Nolan's phone call. She wanted to know if you'd told anyone else and I reassured her that neither of us had." Thirteen swallowed nervously. "Chase, you didn't…"

"How could you even think that?" Chase asked, his face full of hurt.

"Someone went to Cuddy after House moved out of Wilson's apartment."

"I did not do that," Chase protested. "The only reason I told the three of you was so you'd know not to call Wilson's."

Thirteen looked down. "Well, whether you did it or not, from Sarah's perspective..."

"Whether I did it or not? What is that supposed to mean?" Chase demanded.

"It's not supposed to mean anything," Thirteen protested. "Just…you have to see how this looks to Sarah. She doesn't know you…"

"Apparently you don't think you do either." Chase spun on his heel, stalking toward the door. Thirteen hurried after him.

"Robert…" she cried, reaching out to catch his arm. He turned reluctantly, glaring at her. "I…I didn't mean to imply…"

"You don't trust me."

"I wasn't saying that," Thirteen protested, pushing down a nagging voice in the back of her mind. Chase stared at her for a minute and she forced herself to meet his gaze. Finally, he sighed.

"What did you say to Sarah?"

"I told her that she was right – we did treat House horribly – and I promised her that we weren't going to tell anyone about his slip."

"And she accepted that?"

Thirteen fidgeted a little. "She asked if we were serious about helping him with his pain and I said that we were. I let her know that the MRI has to be rescheduled and explained about looking through his medical records in the meantime."

"And that convinced her." Chase sounded dubious.

"I don't think she's convinced of anything," Thirteen replied. "She's going to be watching us and if it even looks like we've betrayed House…" She let her voice trail off.

"She'll shred us," Chase finished.

"Yeah. I think she will. And worse, we won't get another chance to help House."

"Then I guess we'd better get to work." Chase stepped over to the table and started to look through the box of records. Thirteen breathed out a sigh of relief before joining him. The nagging voice of doubt lingered in the back of her mind but for the moment, she could tune it out.

* * *

When Sarah returned from the courtyard, carrying a shivering Maggie, she was dismayed to find the alcove where she'd left Greg empty. For a moment she just stared, as if he would reappear from thin air. _Where could he have gone?_ she wondered._ He couldn't have rolled the wheelchair with one arm in a sling, and we left his cane upstairs._

Sarah decided to start in the cafeteria. She'd stepped inside and came to a halt as the sound of loud laughter reached her. She looked toward the source and spotted several elderly people sitting around a table. She was about to move on when she realized that one of the men with his back to her looked too young to be part of the group. He also seemed familiar and she breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized Greg. She made her way toward the table.

"Bullshit," Greg growled out, staring at the man on his right. Sarah's steps faltered for a second, until she spotted the cards in his hands. The man beside him grunted and reached out to scoop up a small pile of cards in the center of the table.

"Better to be lucky than good, innit Sonny," he snarled.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Greg shot back. Sarah stepped into his line of sight and the sneer on his face turned to a sheepish smile. "Hi."

"I wondered where you'd gotten to," Sarah said lightly. "Did you get tired of waiting?"

"Idiot-face pushed him over here and stuck him with us," replied the man beside Greg. "If I'd known a pretty little thing like you came with him, I might have been more welcoming. I'm Bob." He held out a gnarled hand and Sarah shook it, keeping one arm wrapped around Maggie.

"Queenie!" A woman's wavering voice cut off the reply Greg was about to make. Sarah looked over to see a woman across the table staring fixedly at Maggie. "What are you doing with Queenie?" the woman asked, shifting her gaze up to Sarah for a second before looking back to the dog. Sarah felt Maggie's tail start to wag.

"That's Meryl," said Bob. His voice was quiet and had lost its harsh edge. "She's not right in the head. She had a little dog like yours, but she died last year."

"Oh," Sarah said. She looked back to Meryl and found that she was still staring at Maggie. Her lower lip was trembling and Sarah realized that the woman was about to cry. She moved quickly, stepping around the table. Maggie's tail wagged faster and faster and Meryl's lips turned up in a tremulous smile.

"Hi, Queenie," she said breathily. She stretched shaking hands out toward Maggie, and the dog squirmed in Sarah's arms, straining toward the older woman. Sarah carefully settled Maggie into Meryl's lap and the old woman's arms came around the dog, her smile widening. Maggie squirmed, turning so she could lap at Meryl's face. Sarah hovered, watching to make sure that the woman had a good hold on Maggie. She couldn't help but smile at the happiness in the older woman's face, even as she worried that maybe this wasn't the best idea. How would Meryl take it when Sarah had to reclaim the dog? She looked across the table to Greg and saw that he was watching. Bob was watching too and he caught Sarah's eye, giving her a smile.

"That's not your Queenie, Meryl," he said gently. "But I don't imagine this little lady will mind sharing her with you for a bit." Meryl stared at him for a second before turning her gaze to Sarah.

"She's not Queenie?"

"Her name is Maggie," Sarah said. "And you're welcome to hold her for a while if you like."

Meryl ran a hand along Maggie's side, her smile widening. "Her hair's so silky. My Queenie never had such soft hair." She kept stroking Maggie and the little dog leaned into the old woman. Sarah felt her smile returning. She looked over at Greg and saw his lips turn up a little.

"Are we playing cards here or what?" growled Bob. Greg turned his attention back to the game and Sarah looked back to Meryl.

"Would you mind holding Maggie for a few minutes? I'm going to go get some food for my friend." She glanced at the women on either side of Meryl and one of them nodded. Sarah gave Maggie a pat, assuring her she'd be right back, and made her way to the counter.

When she returned to the table, carrying a well-provisioned tray, she saw that Meryl had wrapped a colorful shawl around Maggie and was hugging her and talking to her. Maggie's tail was wagging and she looked happy. Sarah smiled. She reached Greg and the old man beside him slid his chair over, making room for her to pull up one and sit between them. She set the tray down and pulled over a chair from a nearby table. She started to sit down and was startled to feel a pinch on her bottom.

"Hey!" she protested, looking over at Bob. He was studying his cards but his lips were twitching with amusement.

"Do that again and I'll break your fingers," Greg growled. Sarah looked at him in surprise, feeling warmth spreading through her.

"You can't do that," Bob protested. "I'm a defenseless old man."

"I'm in a wheel-chair," Greg shot back. "And I've got an arm in a sling."

"Enough," Sarah said, trying not to laugh at the two of them. She supposed her feminist hackles should be on the rise, but all she felt was flattered. "Just…eat your food."

"We've got a game to finish," Bob protested. "Unless you're backing out."

"It's your turn," Greg retorted. "Are you going to play or not?" Sarah looked around the table and saw that everyone else was watching.

"Five fours," Bob announced, laying down four cards. Sarah looked to Greg. He was frowning at the older man, but he made no challenge. He looked at his own cards, gripped awkwardly in his left hand, and pulled out three.

"Three fives," he announced. There was something in his eyes and Sarah bit back a smile as she realized that he was lying. She didn't want to give him away so she pasted a neutral expression onto her face. She looked over at Bob and saw him grin.

"Bullshit," he said, reaching out to flip over the three cards Greg had laid down. Sure enough, only two of them were fives. Muttering under his breath, Greg reached out to gather up the pile of cards. Sarah moved over beside him to help him arrange them; he couldn't hold them all in one hand.

"I'll sit in while you eat," she offered.

"We can take a break," Bob replied. Greg nodded his assent and Sarah moved his cards out of the way. She set his food in front of him and sat back, shrugging out of her coat.

"So, how does a grumpy gimp like that wind up with a lovely lady like you?" Bob asked her. Greg paused in his eating to shoot a glare at the older man and Sarah laughed.

"The sooner he finishes eating, the sooner you can get back to your game," she pointed out.

"Who's stopping him?" Bob asked, eyes glinting with mischief. "I just asked a question."

"We're neighbors," Sarah said, feeling butterflies forming in her stomach. "And… friends."

"Just friends?" Bob asked.

"Enough with the twenty questions," Greg said, shoving aside his tray and reaching for his cards. "You've got a game to lose."

Sarah studied the two men as the game continued. She was surprised and pleased to realize that she could tell each time Greg lied; his face stayed impassive but his eyes gave him away. She couldn't spot Bob's tells but as they kept playing, it became obvious that Greg had figured out at least a few of them. Before long Greg was back to holding all his cards in his left hand while Bob was shuffling through a large stack. They appeared to be playing with at least two decks.

"It looks like you finally met your match, Bob," laughed a woman across the table. "Bob's been the reigning BS champ of Whispering Pines for 3 years now. Well done, young man."

"The game ain't over yet," Bob protested weakly. He slapped some cards down on the table. "Five eights."

"Bullshit," Greg said triumphantly. Sarah jumped as Dr. Cuddy's voice came from behind her. In the excitement of the game, no one had noticed the woman's approach.

"What is going on here?" she demanded.

"Just a friendly game of cards," Bob replied, leering at the dean.

"Who are all these people? House…"

"Why don't you join us, Toots?" asked Bob, grinning at Cuddy. Sarah stifled a laugh and looked at Greg. It was a mistake as he was also smothering laughter. Cuddy stalked closer to Bob and the older man started to tell her about a missing orderly. Sarah got quickly to her feet, taking the handles of Greg's wheelchair. She moved him around the table to Meryl and heard Cuddy shriek. She looked over to see that the dean was red-faced, glaring down at Bob and rubbing her flank. Greg snickered.

"Don't you dare," Sarah muttered, not daring to look at him. She stopped his chair and stepped over to Meryl. The old woman looked up at her, eyes widening a little.

"Does she have to go?" she asked.

"For now," Sarah said gently.

"Maybe you can visit with the doggie later, Meryl," said another woman.

"Ok," Meryl said tremulously. "You come and visit me real soon, Queenie." She gave Maggie a gentle pat and let Sarah lift the dog from her lap. Sarah settled Maggie in Greg's lap, looking back over at Cuddy. She had moved out of reach but was still talking with Bob. A man in scrubs came into the cafeteria, bopping his head rhythmically and Bob pointed to him. Cuddy closed in on him as Sarah and Greg made their escape.


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: Still don't own House. I'd like to thank my beta, Brighid45, for her help with this story and for helping me shake off the funk that the finale caused. She's just started the next story in her RocktheHouse Award-winning _Treatment_ series. It's called _The Language of Pain_ and I heartily recommend it! I'd also like to thank everyone who's signed up for alerts, added me to favs, and sent in reviews! I appreciate the compliments very much!**

_The lights are bright and harsh in the hydrotherapy room. He stands in the doorway, reluctant to enter but knowing that he's going to anyway. A soft whimpering reaches him as he moves forward. Someone is kneeling at the end of one of the tubs, his back to the door. He feels his heart-rate increasing as he moves closer and closer. _

_ He stops a few feet from the man and the whimpering ceases. The man turns suddenly, glaring fiercely at him and he wants to take a step back but he's frozen in place. His stomach twists with nausea as he stares into his own face. The room seems to shimmer for a moment and suddenly __he__ is at the end of the tub. His knees ache from supporting his weight on the tile floor and his hands burn from the coldness of the icy water. He yanks them back and for the first time he sees inside the tub itself._

_ Sarah's face is white and her lips blue. Her eyes are shut, the lashes sticking together. For an instant he can only stare, and then he cries out and reaches to pull her from the water. She remains still, not responding to his hoarse shouts or his attempts to hoist her from the water. He pleads with her to open her eyes as he struggles to move her dead weight. His treacherous leg trembles and she slips from his grip, splashing down into the icy water again._

_ "Greg!" The voice was Sarah's, but it wasn't coming from her. It sounded far away. "Greg!"_

House came awake with a start. A hand was on his good shoulder, shaking him gently. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, but eventually he was able to make out Sarah's face. He stared at her, taking in her wide eyes and flushed face, and fought to catch his breath.

"You were having a nightmare," she said softly. She was no longer shaking him but her hand lingered on his shoulder.

"I…I was," House said. Parts of the dream came back to him in flashes and he shuddered. He shifted on the bed, preparing to sit up, and Sarah's hand dropped away. She moved back, giving him room. Her face was full of concern. He turned his gaze from hers as he levered himself up with his good arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," House said, struggling to keep from snapping at her. All he wanted was to get away. He needed a few minutes to compose himself.

"Ok," Sarah said. She sounded doubtful.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he muttered. "Go back to sleep." He retrieved his cane from where it was hanging on the bed's railing and got to his feet. He could feel Sarah watching him as he limped across the room to the bathroom.

Once inside, he leaned heavily on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He could see why Sarah was concerned. His face looked drawn, the skin stretched tight over the bones, and his eyes were sunken. He shut them for a second, and the image of Sarah's face from the dream came back to him. He opened his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself. He moved away from the mirror, folding down the toilet lid and sinking down to sit on it, dropping his head into his hand.

It was easy enough to understand where the dream came from. He'd seen Shawn in an ice-bath a few days ago and it had brought back memories. Those had mingled with his fear that he would hurt Sarah. What he couldn't understand was why he'd had the dream _now_ instead of a few nights ago. He'd fully expected nightmares after talking with Sarah about her scar, but this was the last thing he'd expected after spending a pleasant day in her company. He found himself wishing that he could talk to Nolan about it, and that surprised him.

House forced himself back to his feet. He knew Sarah was waiting for him, probably growing more anxious by the minute. He didn't want to worry her any more than he already had. He splashed some water on his face and took a deep breath before going back out into the room. He would consider what wishing to talk to Nolan meant later.

Sarah was lying down but he could feel her watching him as he made his way back to his bed. He climbed in, exhaling slowly. He started as her hand came to rest on his arm.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked gently.

"No," he said firmly. The words came out sounding harsher than he'd intended and he braced himself, expecting her to pull her hand away. When she didn't, he looked over at her. He expected to find hurt in her face, but her expression was blank.

"Ok," she said after a moment.

"It was just a stupid dream," he said quietly, turning his gaze back to the ceiling. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright."

"You should go back to sleep."

"I will," Sarah said. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze before moving her hand away. House looked over to see her sitting up. "My turn," She said, giving him a quick smile as she got to her feet. He shifted on the bed to watch as she made her way to the bathroom. The door closed behind her with a soft click and House dropped back to the bed with a sigh. A second later the blankets on Sarah's bed moved and Maggie poked her head out.

"You should go back to sleep too," he told her. The blanket continued to move and he realized that Maggie was wagging her tail. She crawled out and moved over to his bed. He shook his head even as he lifted the blankets to let her slip under. She settled in beside him and he put his hand on the lump she made under the warm covering.

When the bathroom door opened a few minutes later, House had his eyes closed. He kept them that way as Sarah climbed back into her bed.

"Greg?" Her voice was soft, questioning. He concentrated on keeping his breathing even. A moment later, he heard the bed creak slightly and felt her lips brush his temple lightly. "Good night," she murmured. He stayed still, listening intently. After a few minutes he heard her breathing deepen. A few minutes later he dared to look over at her and saw that she was asleep. He sighed, turning his gaze back to the ceiling.

He had tried throughout the day to reach Nolan, calling both his cell phone and his office several times. At one point, he even tried Mayfield's main switchboard. Each time he called, he wound up with a recording stating that the number he dialed was temporarily out of service. Anxiety began to mingle with his frustration, increasing with each attempted call. Where was Nolan? Had he been at work when the storm hit, or at home? House shuddered, imagining the man driving through the driving winds and snow to reach the hospital.

House finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, images of Nolan trying to dig his way out of a snow bank mingling with those of Sarah in a tub of ice.

* * *

Thirteen shifted on the bed for the third time in as many minutes. Her body felt incredibly heavy and her eyes burned, but sleep refused to come. The nagging voice of doubt that had whispered at her during her conversation with Chase seemed to be shouting now. Had Chase been the one to go to Cuddy after House left Wilson's apartment? Could she really trust him not to tell anyone else about Nolan's phone call? Her stomach twisted in knots as she thought about their night together. Chase had said he wanted more than just sex; he'd wanted to get to know her first. Had that all been a lie?

Thirteen rolled on her side, sighing in frustration. She and Chase hadn't gotten to spend much time looking through House's files. They'd been called to the ER to help with a group of patients brought in from a nursing home. She'd found it incredibly frustrating to give up the time in the MRI, and then to be called away to the ER. She didn't want to let House down again. If she couldn't sleep, then she could at least put her time awake to good use.

The hospital was quiet as she made her way to the elevators and down the hall toward Diagnostics. The conference room was dark and empty. Thirteen flipped on the lights and made her way to the box of files. She dug through them, looking at the dates, until she found the file from House's original admittance to PPTH. She sat down at the table, flipped the file open, and began to read.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed. She had read through House's original presentation with severe leg pain in the ER and was reading the details of his admission when a voice startled her.

"What are you doing?" She jumped and looked up to see Foreman standing just inside the door.

"I...I couldn't sleep," she said.

"What are all these files?" Foreman asked, stepping forward to look in the box.

"They're House's medical records," Thirteen said.

"You scheduled an MRI for him, now you're reviewing his medical records – why?" Foreman dropped into a chair at the end of the table. "Is something happening with his leg?"

"He's in a lot of pain," Thirteen said.

Foreman snorted. "Right."

"His leg cramped up so badly that he nearly fell in the lobby the other night. Sarah says that's been happening a lot lately…"

"He's playing her."

"Right. He created a leg spasm with the power of his mind."

"He's an _addict_." Foreman's tone was dismissive. Thirteen's hackles went up.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't have a legitimate pain problem!" she snapped. "At some point a doctor thought that prescribing Vicodin was appropriate." She glared at Foreman. After a moment, he looked away. With a huff of disgust, Thirteen turned back to the file in front of her. She tried to concentrate on the words on the page but she was too aware of Foreman's presence to concentrate fully. Sighing, she looked up to find that Foreman was watching her, his expression thoughtful.

"What are you looking for?" he asked. Thirteen was prepared to bristle, but there was nothing scornful or hostile in his tone.

"We're trying to figure out what's causing the pain. Maybe Vicodin wasn't the right prescription. When he was on it, he still had bad days."

"Who's we – you and Chase?"

"Yes," Thirteen said, bracing herself, but Foreman just nodded, looking resigned.

"Has Chase told you the story of what happened to House's leg?" he asked.

"I know he had an infarction that went undiagnosed for a couple of days."

"There's more to it than that," Foreman said, shifting in his chair. "House presented the case to a class a few years ago. Chase, Cameron, and I were there. I'm surprised Chase hasn't told you about it."

"He hasn't had much of an opportunity," Thirteen said. "We keep getting interrupted when we try to work on this." She looked pointedly back to the file.

Foreman sighed. "I can tell you, if you want."

"I'd like to hear it." Thirteen jerked her head up to see Taub coming in to the conference room. "That is, if I'm not crashing a private party." He looked from Thirteen to Foreman and back. Thirteen sighed and sank back in the chair.

"Fine. Tell us the story, Foreman."

* * *

Sarah came awake suddenly. She lay in the hospital bed, trying to figure out what had disturbed her. Greg was in the bed beside hers, snoring softly. She rolled onto her side to watch him. He was truly asleep this time and she sighed, remembering how he'd pretended last night. He'd almost convinced her, but the lines of tension around his eyes had given him away. She'd pushed down the stabbing disappointment she felt when she realized he was faking, and so hadn't confronted him.

Sighing, Sarah looked away from Greg. Her gaze roamed around the room. The blinds were all drawn, shutting out most of the light from the hallway, and also closed over the windows, shutting out the view outside. She stared at them and realized what was different. The howling of the wind had ceased.

Sarah got to her feet and made her way to the window. She shifted the blinds aside and looked out to see that everything was still. A thick coating of snow blanketed everything in sight, but no more flakes were falling. The storm was finally over. In another day or so the snow plows would have made the rounds and hopefully the power would be restored to Baker Street. She'd be able to go home. She was surprised when she realized that she didn't feel any relief at that thought. The knots in her stomach remained as tight as ever. _It doesn't matter where we are if I keep driving him away,_ she thought.

Sarah let the blinds fall back into place. She knew she wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. She took her bag to the bathroom and got changed before retrieving Maggie and taking the dog downstairs. The storm had ceased but the air was still bitterly cold. As soon as Maggie was done, Sarah scooped her up and hurried back to the building. She was surprised when someone held open the door for her.

"Thanks," she gasped as she came inside.

"Aha – I thought it must be Queen Maggie out there," replied the man at the door and Sarah smiled as she recognized Bob. "How are you this morning, Ladies?"

"We're fine, but what are you doing down here?" Sarah asked, taking in Bob's winter gear.

"I was about to indulge in a bad habit," Bob replied, holding up a pack of cigarettes.

Sarah frowned. "It's very cold out there," she said.

"I don't suppose you'd keep watch if I snuck into a janitor's closet," Bob said.

"No," Sarah said, trying not to smirk at the image. Bob looked out the window for a moment and with a grimace, he stuffed the pack into a coat pocket.

"Fine. I'll just have to indulge in a different vice." He leered at Sarah and she laughed. "Your boyfriend isn't around is he? I want to keep all my fingers intact."

"He's still sleeping, I hope," Sarah said, feeling her humor fade.

"C'mon – I'll let you buy me a cup of what passes for coffee in this joint," Bob said, waving Sarah toward the cafeteria. She hesitated and he growled. "It's just coffee – nothing for your man to get all bent out of shape about."

"He's not my man," she said, turning toward the cafeteria. Bob fell into step beside her.

"You could've fooled me."

"We're just…" Sarah sighed. "Actually, I don't know what we are."

"Well, you can tell me all about it over a cuppa joe and maybe we can figure it out," Bob said, steering Sarah into the cafeteria. "Here, I'll take the little queen and you can get the coffee. Black, three sugars for me, alright?" He took Maggie from her arms and gave Sarah a little push toward the register.

When Sarah emerged from the queue a few minutes later, she spotted Bob in a back booth. Maggie was on his lap, staring up at him as he talked to her. Her tail wagged gently. She glanced over as Sarah slid into the booth but quickly turned her attention back to the old man.

"So," Bob said after taking a drink of his coffee. "You don't know where you stand with Gimpy."

Sarah fought the urge to leap to House's defense. "Please don't call him that."

"Touchy about the leg, is he?"

"Yes," Sarah said.

"So you pussy-foot around him about his leg. What else does he have you pussy-footing about?"

"He doesn't…" Sarah gave an exasperated sigh. "It's complicated."

"Mm-hmm." Bob took another drink of his coffee, staring at her over the rim of his cup. Sarah fidgeted under his gaze.

"It's not like I'm the easiest person to get close to," she said. "It's not just him."

"Uh-huh." Bob put a wealth of skepticism in those two syllables. He was almost smirking at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

"It's just…every time I think we're going to be ok, I say something wrong and he pulls away."

"Who says you're the one who's wrong?" Bob asked, putting down his coffee cup. He shifted in the booth, leaning forward over the table toward her. "How long are you going to let him set the pace?"

"I…I can't push," Sarah protested. "He'll pull away."

"How long are you planning to chase after him?" Bob asked.

"I don't…I don't know," Sarah said, and clasped her hands to keep from wringing them. This conversation was making her nervous. "He just…needs more time."

"At some point the man has to shit or get off the pot," Bob said. Sarah bit back a laugh and he glared at her. "He can't expect you to chase him forever."

"I don't think he does," Sarah said, sobering. "I think he figures I'll give up on him."

"Then stop letting him set the pace."

"And do what?"

"Tell him how you feel. I've seen the way the man looks at you. Trust me, he doesn't want you to give up on him." Bob reached over to cover one of Sarah's hands with his. "If he turns you down, you can cry on my shoulder. I'll try to keep my hands to myself, but I make no promises." He gave her a toothy grin and Sarah couldn't help but smile back.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in this chapter, folks. I took some time off around the holiday weekend thinking I'd get more writing done. Instead, I spent 2 days moving 4 yards of mulch and then needed 3 days to recover the ability to move again! Anyway, at long last we are here and it is my hope that I can make Fridays my regular posting day. Many thanks as always to all of you for reading, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Also, thanks to my beta, Brighid45, for all her help!**

House woke slowly. He became aware of the scratch of the pillow-case against his beard and then the smell of the hospital's laundry detergent. He opened his eyes, bracing himself, but the lights weren't on. Some weak sunlight leaked in around the edges of the blinds; it was just enough to illuminate the room. He turned toward Sarah's bed but it was empty and Maggie was gone too.

House sat up, rubbing at his thigh as pain stabbed through it. He stayed where he was, not daring to move. The spasm dulled after a few minutes and he carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed. He'd just gotten to his feet when the door slid open and he turned quickly. The cramp intensified and he clung to the bed, waiting for it to take hold.

Sarah came into the room, carrying a plastic bag in one hand and a drink-holder in the other. She was looking back over her shoulder, talking to someone. House pushed himself upright as Bob came into the room carrying Maggie.

"Thanks for your help," Sarah said to the older man. She turned, her smile faltering for a second as she spotted House. "Good morning."

"Morning," House replied. He looked past Sarah to Bob, frowning when he saw amusement in the older man's face. Sarah set the bag and drink holder down on the end-table and turned to take Maggie.

"It was my pleasure," Bob said. He leaned in to kiss Sarah's cheek, winking at House as he drew back. "If you're up for a rematch, Sonny, I'm up on the eighth floor in the ger-on-tology ward." He sauntered out of the room, sliding the door shut behind him. House glared after the retreating figure. He wasn't sure what he resented more – the man's easy saunter or the way he'd kissed Sarah. _You've got no right to resent him for either thing,_ he thought. _He didn't mangle your leg and you've got no claim on Sarah. She's your __friend__, remember?_

"Did you sleep well?" Sarah asked. House turned his gaze back to her. She had removed Maggie's harness and set the dog down on the floor. When she stood again he could see that she was nervous. There were lines of tension around her eyes and her smile was stretched just a little too wide to be totally genuine.

"Fine," House said. "When did you get up?"

"About an hour ago," Sarah replied, moving to the end table and reaching into the plastic bag. She talked as she set out food for Maggie and filled a bowl with water from the bathroom tap. "I was just…wide awake all of the sudden. I couldn't figure out why and then I realized that the wind wasn't shrieking past the windows any more. The storm's over." She gave him a brief smile before going back to the bag.

"How'd you wind up stuck with the geezer?"

"I took Maggie back to that courtyard you showed me yesterday and he held the door for me when I was bringing her back inside. He was going to go outside to smoke but I pointed out how cold it was. We wound up going to the cafeteria and having coffee." She pulled a foam container out of the bag. "I brought up some breakfast for you and coffee too. Are you hungry?"

"I can eat," House said. His bladder was starting to join his leg in protest; he needed to move. He felt a pang of envy for the ease with which the old man walked. His limp to the bathroom would look even more decrepit than usual this morning; he wished Sarah wasn't there to witness it.

"I got eggs, bacon, and pancakes," Sarah said, continuing to fuss with the bag. "I wasn't sure which you'd prefer."

"I'll be right back," House muttered. He hobbled toward the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief when he made it inside. He felt a rush of gratitude for Sarah directing her attention elsewhere, as it had given him a chance to limp away without being observed. He wondered if she'd done it deliberately.

Getting dressed was painful, though he was relieved to note that his shoulder was aching less and less. He left the sling off; he'd need Sarah's help to get back into it. His scar burned when his jeans brushed across it and he sighed. He hadn't had a pain day like this in some time. It was tempting to go back to the loose flannel pants he wore to sleep but he didn't want to roam the hospital in his pajamas.

He stared at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. More and more silver had crept into his hair which was starting to grow out from the buzz cut they'd administered at Mayfield. He wasn't sure if he wanted to have it clippered down again. He needed to shave and trim his beard; he was looking scruffy and scraggly. There were dark circles under his eyes and more lines on his face than he remembered. _Better be careful who you call a geezer,_ he told himself, grimacing at his reflection.

When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he found that Sarah had set the breakfast containers on one of the bed's tray tables. She was sitting in the room's chair with Maggie in her lap, stroking the dog. She looked up at his approach and fixed a bright smile onto her face.

"I was just telling Maggie that we'll get to go home soon," she said with a chuckle. It sounded a little forced.

"It'll take a day or two for the plows to get around, and then the power has to be restored," he cautioned. His stomach twisted with anxiety. _She_ might be able to go home in a few days, but his apartment still had to be searched. He didn't know how long it would take for Chase and Thirteen to do that. They would want to go to their own homes first and they'd have to work the search in around their hours at the hospital.

"I know," Sarah said, her smile dimming a little. He could see the lines around her eyes deepening and his anxiety increased. _Should I tell her that I can stay here?_ he wondered. _She's probably had enough of babysitting. _

_("You always make things so difficult . . .")_

He could hear his mother's voice on the last thought. It was something she'd said to him many times.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Sarah replied. "Take whatever you want."

"Can you help me with this thing?" House held up the sling and Sarah nodded. She slid Maggie into the chair and got to her feet. He held still as she moved the strap around his neck. His skin tingled where her fingers brushed across it and when she started to pull back, he caught her hand. He wanted to pull her close and kiss her.

"Don't," she murmured and he let go of her hand, feeling stung. "I…I need to talk to you." She swallowed audibly and House braced himself.

* * *

Thirteen felt stunned. Foreman had finished telling her the story of House's infarction a few minutes ago and she was trying to take it all in. She glanced across the table to Taub and saw that he looked shocked. She looked to Foreman and found him looking between the two of them, his expression puzzled.

"Cuddy saved House's life," he said.

"She conspired behind his back with his girlfriend to mutilate his leg," Thirteen said, struggling not to shout. "She let him go ahead with the chemically-induced coma so that the girlfriend could authorize the surgery. She never even presented that surgical option to him."

"He would have refused," Foreman protested.

"Maybe," Taub said. "Or maybe that suggestion would have led to him coming up with a better idea."

"You can't know that," Foreman replied, sounding exasperated. "She did nothing illegal. Stacy had his proxy…"

"It might not have been illegal but it sure as hell was unethical," Thirteen retorted. "I don't know how he can stand to look at her, much less work for her."

"This is House's version of events," Foreman said. "You don't know…"

"Well, let's just take look at the file," Thirteen snapped, flipping through the pages in the folder. "Here – this is the form authorizing the coma. And this one authorizes the surgery. They've got the same date on them." She shoved the file toward Foreman. "And look – they put him into a coma in the morning and did the surgery on his leg that afternoon. They didn't even give him a chance to recover."

"He'd already had one heart attack. How long were they supposed to wait?" Foreman asked, but his words had lost their forcefulness. Thirteen was about to reply when movement in the hallway caught her eye. She looked up to see Chase entering the conference room. He stopped a few steps inside the door, a puzzled look on his face.

"Morning," he said. "What's going on?"

"I was just telling them what happened with House's leg," Foreman said, shifting in his chair to face Chase. "You remember how he presented the case a few years ago."

"Yeah," Chase replied, making his way to the coffee maker. He kept talking as he got a pot started. "I…I didn't think about you two not knowing. Seemed like half the hospital wound up in that lecture hall before House was finish…" Chase's voice trailed off. He was staring out the window and Thirteen got to her feet.

"What is it?" she asked, stepping over to stand beside him. She followed his gaze and felt like she'd swallowed a rock. Wilson and Cuddy were standing at the sliding glass door onto his balcony, staring toward the office. Thirteen froze as her eyes met Cuddy's for a moment. Cuddy's gaze narrowed and she stepped away from the window, moving with purpose. Wilson followed her. There was no doubt in Thirteen's mind as to where we they were going. She tore her eyes away from the window to glance at Chase. He was the picture of dismay.

"Crap," he muttered.

"What's going on?" Taub asked. Thirteen turned away from the window to find him staring at her. "You guys look like you've seen a ghost."

"There's…" Thirteen stopped talking because Cuddy and Wilson were in the hallway. Cuddy led the way into the conference room, her face angry. Taub looked at her and his eyes widened.

"Dr. Hadley. Dr. Chase." Cuddy glared at Chase and Thirteen, completely ignoring Foreman and Taub for the moment. Wilson stood behind her, one hand on his hip and the other at the back of his neck. He looked anxious but there was something more in his expression, something calculating. Thirteen turned her gaze back to Cuddy but not before noting that Taub had surreptitiously pulled out his cell phone. He appeared to be texting someone.

"Dr. Cuddy," Chase said smoothly. The apprehension was gone from his face, replaced with an implacable mask. Thirteen found the ease with which he covered his feelings both admirable and disturbing.

"You and Dr. Hadley were here Sunday evening. Why?"

"We came in to review Shawn Whittier's file," Chase said. "We wanted to be prepared in case there was an M&M."

"Can I see your notes?" Cuddy asked. Thirteen felt her heart start to pound. They'd made very few notes – certainly not enough to pass muster for an M&M – before Chase received the call from Dr. Nolan. She didn't dare look at Chase as she waited to hear how he would handle this question.

"I have their notes." Foreman's voice startled Thirteen, but not nearly as much as his words. She tried to control her face as Cuddy whirled to face him.

"You have their notes," Cuddy repeated.

"Yes," Foreman said calmly. "I've been using them as I prepare a report for the M&M. I haven't made as much progress as I would like, given the weather and the emergencies…" Foreman started toward the desk in the corner but Cuddy held up a hand to stop him. She turned her gaze on Thirteen.

"Do you have anything to add, Dr. Hadley?" she asked.

"No," Thirteen said, fighting to keep her voice steady. Cuddy stared at her for another moment before turning to Wilson. He sighed, moving the hand from the back of his neck to pinch the bridge of his nose for a second.

"I was here," he said quietly. "I came in when I saw we were going to get hit by the storm. I was in my office, trying to rest on the couch, and I saw the two of you in here."

"We already told you," Chase said, letting a note of exasperation creep into his voice, "we were reviewing the case…"

"You were searching the office," Wilson snapped. "You were pulling books down from the shelves. You pulled bottles out of several of them. The lights were off in my office. I could see the whole thing."

"You were looking for House's stashes," Cuddy said.

"The office should have been cleaned out when House left for Mayfield," Chase said. His voice was terse. "Then there would have been nothing for us to find."

"He's slipped, hasn't he?" Wilson asked. "Dammit, I was afraid…"

"Yeah, so scared you kicked him out of your apartment and ignored him for two weeks," Chase replied. Wilson sputtered in protest. Cuddy started to say something but Foreman cut her off.

"House's leg cramped up so badly that he nearly fell the other night in the lobby. That wouldn't have happened if he was back on the pills!" Foreman's voice rose until he was yelling at the last. Suddenly everyone seemed to be shouting at everyone else. It was almost funny, until Thirteen spotted House in the hallway. He was staring through the windows at the group in the conference room.

* * *

Sarah kept her eyes aimed at the bag of food while watching Greg out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't missed the way he winced as he shifted his weight. His leg was obviously bothering him a good deal today.

"I got eggs, bacon, and pancakes," she said, fussing with the bag. "I wasn't sure which you'd prefer."

"I'll be right back," Greg muttered. Sarah watched out of the corner of her eye as he hobbled toward the bathroom. Sarah sighed as the door shut behind him. He'd been moving slowly, obviously in a lot of pain. The wheelchair he'd used for most of the previous day was in a corner of the room but it had been hard enough persuading him to ride in it the day before. She didn't think she'd be able to get him to use it again today. She sank into the room's chair and Maggie promptly leapt into her lap. Sarah put her arms around the little dog and dropped a kiss onto the silky head.

"We'll get to go home soon," she murmured. "Maybe things will be easier there." Maggie looked up at her, tail wagging, and Sarah shook her head. Somehow the dog looked skeptical; she couldn't help but think that Maggie was right to be doubtful.

Greg came out of the bathroom a few minutes later. He'd changed into jeans and a t-shirt. His hair stood up every which way on his head and Sarah resisted the urge to go smooth it. She fixed a smile on her face and looked up at him.

"I was just telling Maggie that we'll get to go home soon," she said, unable to avoid a nervous chuckle. Greg frowned.

"It'll take a day or two for the plows to get around, and then the power has to be restored," he said. He looked away from her, the lines of strain around his eyes deepening.

"I know." _ He's obviously tired of being baby-sat_, Sarah thought._ Maybe Bob's wrong. Maybe this isn't a good idea. _

"Have you eaten?" Greg asked.

"I'm fine. Take whatever you want." Butterflies were filling Sarah's stomach; food was the last thing she could handle.

Greg held up his sling, not quite meeting Sarah's eyes. "Can you help me with this thing?"

Sarah nodded, moving Maggie off her lap and into the chair as she got to her feet. Greg stayed where he was. She felt her jumpiness increasing as she reached up to adjust the strap around Greg's neck. Her fingers brushed his skin, sending a shiver through her. She started to draw back but he caught her hand. His eyes were very bright as he moved closer to her.

"Don't," Sarah whispered, knowing it was the wrong thing to say. "I…I need to talk to you." Greg dropped her hand as if it had burned him and she cringed. This was not a good start.

"I can stay here until Chase and Thirteen have a chance to search my apartment," he said, looking away from her.

"No," Sarah protested. "That…That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh." Greg glanced over at her for a second before returning his gaze to the wall.

"It's just…yesterday, when Bob asked how we knew each other…" Sarah let her voice trail off as Greg turned to look at her. He stared at her for a second, his face a blank. He hobbled forward and Sarah moved back to let him go past her. He struggled across the room to the only visitor's chair and sank into it, fumbling for his shoes on the floor. Sarah came over to help. Greg remained silent as she worked. When she finished tying up his second shoe, she stood. He continued to stare at his feet. Sarah took a deep breath and went on.

"What I said…felt wrong. We are neighbors and friends but…that's not all. I…I don't kiss my friends the way we…We're not…_just _friends, are we?"

Greg glanced up at her for a second before turning his gaze back to his lap. His face was still impassive but Sarah thought she saw something like panic in his eyes. _You're botching this_, she thought, feeling her cheeks burn. This was all going hopelessly wrong but she couldn't seem to stop herself. "I…I don't want to just be…" This time she was cut off by the sound of a cell phone as it trilled from the end table, but Greg didn't react at all. He continued to stare at his lap.

"Do you need to get that?" Sarah asked quietly. With a sigh Greg turned toward the table, fumbling for the phone. He lifted it and read the screen.

"It's Taub. I…I have to go," he said.

"What's happening?" Sarah asked. Greg responded by tossing the phone to her. She read the text message on the screen. _Conference room. 911. _She looked up as the vinyl on the chair squeaked. Greg was getting to his feet, his movements stiff.

"I have to go," he repeated, not meeting her eyes. He started toward the door.

"I'm coming with you," Sarah said, moving quickly to get Maggie and to gather up the dog's harness and leash. Greg stopped at the entrance, not opening it until Sarah had Maggie in her arms. He limped out without looking back and Sarah hurried after him.

Greg was silent on the way to the fourth floor. He moved at a brisk pace. Sarah watched him closely but he seemed steady on his feet. He never glanced at her or acknowledged her presence.

They'd only gone a few feet from the elevator when the sound of raised voices reached them. Greg's steps slowed and Sarah eased up alongside him. The conference room came into view; she could see the room was crowded. She recognized Drs. Wilson and Cuddy, as well as Dr. Taub and the black man who worked for Greg. She thought his name was Foreman. Remy and Chase were there as well. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once. Greg slowed to a stop and just stared.

"Maybe…" Sarah began, about to suggest that they not go in, but Greg was moving again. She followed him into the room and stopped just inside the door while Greg limped to the conference room table. Dr. Taub glanced over as they entered, shrugging as if to say _don't look at me_. With the exception of him, everyone seemed to be shouting at everyone else and it took her a moment to sort out all the voices.

"You threw him out of your apartment!" Chase was shouting at Dr. Wilson. At the same time, Dr. Cuddy was directing a tirade at Remy.

"If you had reason to believe House was back on the Vicodin, you should have come to me immediately!"

"He's NOT on the pills again!" Foreman was yelling. "He's in too much pain…" Sarah jumped as Greg brought his cane down on the conference room table.

"_SHUT UP_!" he bellowed. Everyone in the room turned to stare at him. For a moment there was complete silence. Then several people started to talk at once.

"House…" Cuddy began.

"We're just…" Chase started.

"Wha…what…" Wilson stammered.

"_ENOUGH_!" Greg cut them all off. Maggie whimpered softly and Sarah drew her closer.

"It's ok," she murmured. Greg shot a look at her for a second before turning his glare back to the group.

"House," Wilson said. "I…I was here, Sunday night. I saw Chase and Thirteen searching your office."

"So you told Cuddy about it," Greg said. He sounded both annoyed and resigned.

"It doesn't matter how I found out," Cuddy said briskly. "What matters is _why_. Why were they searching?"

"I already told you. We were cleaning out the office," Chase said wearily. "That should have been done before…"

"I took one pill," Greg snapped. "Saturday night." For a moment the room was silent, and then chaos erupted once more.

"He was supposed to stay with you!" Cuddy screeched at Wilson. "You were supposed to be watching him!"

"I'm not a baby-sitter!" Wilson retorted. Chase started to say something else but Sarah tuned it out. Greg had turned and was stalking out of the room.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: I was going to try to make Fridays my regular posting day, but I don't have the patience for that. I'm too pleased to have another chapter to share with all of you! As always, I greatly appreciate the alert sign ups, favs, and especially the reviews. I'd also like to thank my beta, Brighid45, for all of her help. She is working on the latest story in her _Treatment_ series, called _The Language of Pain_. If you haven't read it yet, you are missing out on some great writing! Now, on with our story. I hope you'll enjoy and that you'll let me know!**

House left the conference room, moving as fast as he could. He stumbled into the bathroom, crashing into a stall, and dropped painfully to his knees in front of the toilet as waves of nausea crashed over him. He knelt there, panting and waiting for the bile to fill his throat. Minutes passed and finally he realized his stomach was settling. He scrabbled to his feet, moving to the sink to splash water on his face.

When he looked up into the mirror, he shuddered at the wild face that stared back at him. His skin was ashen and his sunken eyes wild. He shut them and breathed out a shuddering sigh. _It's over_, he thought. _Sooner or later that blame-game back there is going to stop, if only because everyone's gone hoarse from yelling, and then Cuddy will realize that she has to fire me. _

House pushed away from the sink and walked to the door. He was relieved to find the hall empty. He made his way to the elevator. A car was waiting and he climbed in, stabbing randomly at a button. It didn't matter where he went, as long as it was away.

He sagged against the elevator wall as the car began to move. Was this the one he and Sarah had used two nights before? His stomach twisted at the thought of her. _That's over too, _he thought. His eyes stung and he shut them.

Sarah had been trying to talk to him in their room. She'd clearly been nervous but she'd pushed on. When he'd realized what she was saying, his first feeling had been one of elation. He'd been in the chair by then and she'd been helping him with his shoes. He'd nearly reached for her, but the memory of his nightmare had come rushing back. He'd been relieved to get Taub's text, and she hadn't protested when he'd said he had to go. _Probably she was already regretting what she said_.

The elevator began to whine and House realized it had come to a stop. He caught the doors before they closed and stumbled out onto the floor. He staggered away, not sure where he was going. He had taken a few steps before he realized that he was on the eighth floor. The stairwell to the roof was at the end of the hall and he started for it.

Half-way down the hall his leg began to tremble and he stumbled. He sagged against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Hey, Sonny! You made it after all." He started at the voice and pushed himself into a standing position. Bob stood a few feet from him, moving cards between his hands. House realized that he was outside the gerontology ward.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Well, you comin' in or what?" The older man was frowning at him, his irritability rapidly turning to concern. "What'sa matter with you?" House drew himself up a little straighter.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm fine."

"Then c'mon. Let's play cards." Bob turned to go back into the ward and after a moment's hesitation, House followed him.

Bob led House across a small lounge. A cluster of elderly patients sat around a large tv. Several of them looked up and smiled, nodding greetings as House approached. He nodded back, feeling uncomfortable under their smiling gazes. They all seemed to remember him from the previous day. A few of the women even waved. He was grateful when Bob stepped into a small alcove off the lounge. A table sat beneath a window with two hard plastic chairs at either end. House sank into one, hissing a little as the denim of his jeans moved across his scar, sending a burning pain through his thigh. Bob looked up at him for a moment before returning his gaze to the cards he was shuffling.

"You left your wheels behind today," he said.

"Yeah." House turned his head to look out the window. He could feel the older man watching him.

"Left your pretty chauffeur too."

"She…she doesn't need to be chauffeuring me around," House muttered. He darted a glance at Bob but the older man's eyes were fixed on the cards in his hands. House looked away quickly, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"She seemed willing enough," Bob said. "Seemed pretty fond of you too."

"She…" House shook his head as a spark of irritation flared. "I don't want to talk about her," he snapped. He shot a glare at Bob, daring the man to rebuke him. The older man began to deal the cards, his hands moving surely.

"Suit yourself," he said calmly. After a moment, House reached out to snatch up the cards he'd been dealt.

They played gin, and talk was confined to the game. As they settled into the rhythm of deal and discard, House felt his breathing even out. Bob kept reaching out to scoop up the cards, handling all the physical actions. House knew he should protest – he could at least manage to deal even with one arm in a sling – but he couldn't seem to find the energy.

"Ha!" Bob laughed in triumph after his fourth straight victory and reached out to rake up the cards again.

"Guess it's your turn to be lucky," House muttered.

"You know what they say – unlucky at cards…" Bob stopped, arching his eyebrows at House and grinning.

"Right," House scoffed.

"I'd say you're lucky," Bob replied.

"I'd say you don't know what the hell you're talking about," House retorted.

"Enlighten me." There was a glint in the old man's eyes and he sounded faintly amused. House felt his temper flaring.

"You've listened to nurses' gossip and now you think you've got me all figured out."

"I didn't need gossip for that," Bob chuckled. "They just filled in a few dee-tails."

"Then there's no need for me to tell you a thing," House said bitterly. He glared out the window, feeling his heart start to pound again.

"Damn but you're stubborn," Bob muttered. When House continued to glower at the snow-covered rooftops below, Bob sighed. "Fine. You've got a bum leg 'cause some stupid doctors at this hospital botched the diagnosis. Now you go around figuring out cases that other doctors can't. You used to pop pain pills like candy, but something happened to you last year. There are lots of different rumors on that but they all say that you went away for the summer. You came back and you were different. You don't take pills anymore, at least not in public. You may have had a thing going with that hot little dean of medicine but that's over too. She's got a new man in her life, some smarmy little PI. For a while the smart money was that you'd find a way to break them up, but folks have given up on that. Seems there's a new lady in _your_ life. How'm I doin' so far?"

"Go on," House said, trying to inject a sneering tone into his voice. He didn't dare turn from the window. He was reeling. The rumors were far more accurate than he'd expected.

"A couple weeks ago some guy came in to the clinic and attacked you. Most folks think it had something to do with your new lady, though there are a few hold-outs convinced that you just pissed the guy off. Seems you aren't known for your great bedside manner." Bob gave a little chuckle. "A few nurses went positively dewy-eyed, talking about you and a little dog. Your fellows kept sneaking her into your room while you were a patient, and then you turned up with her in tow the other night. They think it's sweet."

"Hmph." House kept his gaze fixed on the view out the window.

"Of course, there are a few cynics who say you're only being nice to the dog 'cause you're bangin' the woman…"

"Shut up," House hissed, turning to glare at Bob. The old man laughed.

"That one's riled you up," he said, his eyes bright with merriment. "If I tell you who said it, you gonna go punch 'em out?"

"No!" House snapped. He unclenched his hand slowly and turned back to the window, feeling his face growing warm.

* * *

Thirteen finally understood what people meant about watching a train-wreck. She could see the disaster unfolding but she couldn't turn away and she couldn't escape. She'd seen House enter the conference room a moment before, but Cuddy was shouting at her and she wasn't able to watch him closely.

"If you had reason to believe House was back on the Vicodin, you should have come to me immediately!"

"He's NOT on the pills again!" Foreman protested. "He's in too much pain…" A loud crashing noise interrupted him and everyone turned to see House standing by the table, his cane lying across it.

"_SHUT UP!_" he bellowed, retracting the cane. For a moment the room fell silent, and then several people started to talk at once.

"House…" Cuddy began.

"We're just…" Chase started.

"Wha…what…" Wilson stammered.

"_ENOUGH!_" House cut them all off. In the following silence, Thirteen heard Maggie whimper.

"It's ok," Sarah murmured, drawing the dog close. House shot a look at her over his shoulder before turning to glower at the group once more. His face was angry but there was more than simple fury in his eyes. For a moment Thirteen was reminded of his appearance in the hydrotherapy room. _He's panicked_, she thought. _Dammit, why did Taub have to text him? He doesn't need this!_

Wilson spoke into the quiet. "House, I…I was here, Sunday night. I saw Chase and Thirteen searching your office."

"So you told Cuddy about it." The resignation in House's voice stabbed at Thirteen. _He's not at all surprised by Wilson's betrayal._

"It doesn't matter how I found out. What matters is _why_. Why were they searching?" Cuddy's tone was brisk but there was a slight tremor in her voice.

"I already told you. We were cleaning out the office. That should have been done before…" Chase started to repeat the explanation he'd offered earlier but House cut him off.

"I took one pill. Saturday night." Thirteen stared at him. For a moment she couldn't believe what he had said. _What is he __doing__? _ Shouting erupted once more but Thirteen kept her gaze fixed on House. The panic in his eyes had not diminished and he seemed to be breathing heavily.

"He was supposed to stay with you! You were supposed to be watching him!" Cuddy was shouting at Wilson.

"I'm not a baby-sitter," Wilson fired back. Chase started to yell and House turned on his heel, moving rapidly out of the room. Sarah turned to stare after him, shifting Maggie in her arms. When she started toward the door Thirteen stepped forward, half-pushing Chase aside as she made her way around the conference room table.

"I'll take Maggie," she offered. Sarah looked over at her in surprise, and then handed her the dog.

"Thanks," she said softly, and hurried out the door and down the hall in pursuit of House. Thirteen looked over at Taub. His expression was half-amused, half-appalled as he watched Cuddy, Wilson, and Chase shouting at each other. She caught Foreman's eye and he shook his head. There was no amusement in his face, only disgust. He moved over to join her.

"This is a disaster," he murmured. "I hope she catches up to House. He looked…distressed."

"I shouldn't have texted him to come down here," Taub muttered, coming to stand with them. He reached out to rub Maggie's ears. The dog turned her gaze toward the hallway. Thirteen followed it to find Sarah returning.

"You didn't find him?"

"I went all the way to the elevators," Sarah said, her face full of worry. "Do you have any idea where he'd go?" Foreman opened his mouth to answer her but a shout from Wilson cut him off.

"You-you knew about this!" Thirteen turned to see that Wilson and Cuddy were glaring at Sarah. _Uh-oh_, she thought, looking back to see Sarah drawing herself up. _Big__ mistake._

"Excuse me?" Sarah didn't shout but there was no mistaking the fury in her voice.

"You knew that he took Vicodin," Wilson said accusingly. "You should have told…"

"Told who? The man who wrote him the scripts?" Sarah stabbed a finger in Wilson's direction. "The boss who turned a blind eye to his addiction for years?" She pointed at Cuddy and the older woman blanched. "Or maybe one of the doctors he works with who missed out on the fact that he was hallucinating on the job?" She made a sweeping gesture to take in the whole fellowship team. Thirteen glanced at Foreman to see him grimacing. Taub hung his head, nodding a couple of times while Chase stared, open-mouthed. Thirteen quickly looked away from him; she was in danger of laughing at his expression and that would not help matters.

"That's not fair…" Wilson began to protest.

"Not _fair_? You have _got_ to be kidding me! You seriously think that I would betray Greg's confidence to one of you…you lunatic people!" Sarah was shouting now. Thirteen could feel Maggie trembling in her arms and she drew the little dog closer.

"Sarah…" Cuddy began.

"I don't have time for your nonsense," Sarah said, cutting her off. "I need to find Greg." She turned back to Thirteen, Foreman, and Taub.

"He might go to the coma-ward," Foreman suggested.

"We should check the morgue too," Taub added.

"No!" Sarah said sharply. "I'll look for him."

"We can cover more ground if we all go," Chase protested. Sarah glared at him.

"I think you people have done enough," she said icily.

"We can at least watch Maggie for you," Thirteen offered.

"I'll make you a list of places to try, and what floors they're on," Foreman said, striding over to the desk. He snatched a piece of paper from the printer and started writing. "I've got the coma-ward, the morgue, and the clinic. Anybody got any other places to suggest?"

"What about calling him?" Taub asked.

"That's the first thing I thought of," Sarah said. "But I've got his cell."

"Here's the list." Foreman stepped over from the desk to hand Sarah the paper. "If we think of anywhere else, we'll call you. If…if you need help, our numbers are all in House's phone."

"Thanks." Sarah took the paper from him and hurried out of the conference room. Thirteen watched her go, adjusting her grip on Maggie. The dog seemed to be getting heavier by the minute.

"Ah-hem." Cuddy cleared her throat and Thirteen looked back to her with a sinking heart. Sarah had only delayed the argument, not stopped it. "There's still the matter of when you two found out about this."

"We found out when you did," Chase said.

"You searched this office Sunday night…"

"House's psychiatrist called me Sunday night," Chase said patiently. "I was here with Rem…Thirteen, prepping for an M&M on Shawn Wittier."

"Chase…" Thirteen protested. She shifted Maggie again and Taub stepped up to take the dog from her. She gave him a quick smile of gratitude before turning her attention back to Chase, who was still talking.

"The man told me House had authorized him to ask me to search his office and his apartment for stashes of drugs. I agreed to do it. That was all. He didn't say anything about House having taken any pills and I didn't ask."

"Dr. Nolan called _you_?" Wilson was incredulous. "Why would he call _you_?"

"He said that House had authorized him to call me," Chase repeated. "I couldn't search the office in front of Thirteen without her wanting to know what was going on, so I told her about the call and she agreed to help me. When we finished here, I called House and…"

"Chase, that's enough," Thirteen protested, frowning at Chase. He stared at her, lifting his shoulders slightly as if to say _What?_ Thirteen shook her head at him slightly. Wilson stepped up to murmur something to Cuddy and the dean nodded. Wilson started out of the conference room and she fell into step behind him.

"This discussion isn't over," she said over her shoulder as she exited the room. Thirteen watched her walking away with Wilson for a moment before turning to glare at Chase. He frowned back at her.

* * *

Sarah moved quickly down the hall, the paper Dr. Foreman had given her clutched tightly in one hand. He'd written out instructions for reaching each location. The coma-ward was first on the list and she decided to start there. According to the paper, she should head back to the sixth floor. The ward was not far from the room she and Greg had been using.

In the elevator, Sarah leaned against the wall and exhaled slowly. Her heart was still pounding after the confrontation in the conference room, and she could feel her hands shaking. The more she thought about what had happened, the sicker she felt. Greg had taken a huge step, admitting what had happened Saturday night, and no one had even acknowledged him for it. Instead Cuddy and Wilson had started yelling at each other, trying to assign blame, and she'd been so stunned by all that was happening that she'd simply stood by silently as Greg had walked out.

The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and Sarah stepped out. She went to their room first, but it was empty. She continued down the hall. As she started past a nurses' station, someone spoke to her.

"Can I help you?" Sarah turned to see a stern-looking nurse frowning at her.

"Hi. I'm looking for Gre…Dr. House," Sarah said. "Have you seen him?"

"No," replied the nurse. Her expression had turned sour at the mention of Greg.

"Dr. Foreman told me that there's a room he hangs out in here," Sarah said, hoping that the mention of the other physician's name would give her a little more authority. "Do you know which one he means?"

"Yes," the nurse said, pursing her lips in disapproval.

"Could you tell me which one it is?" Sarah pressed, fighting to keep aggravation out of her tone.

"People aren't supposed to wander in the ward – it upsets the families," snapped the nurse. When Sarah didn't budge, she sighed. "I suppose I could go check the room."

"Thank you," Sarah said, fighting her impatience. She doubted there were any families visiting in the midst of a blizzard, but ticking off this woman wasn't going to get her anywhere. With another sigh, the nurse moved off down the hall. Sarah leaned against the station's counter. Her rush of adrenaline was fading, leaving her feeling drained.

The nurse returned a few minutes later, shaking her head.

"He's not there. I checked a couple other rooms too but he's not here."

"Thank you," Sarah said. "If you do see him, could you please let him know I'm looking for him? My name is Sarah Kelly."

"Oh!" The other woman's eyes lit up. "You're the one he…" She stopped herself and Sarah felt her face flush. Evidently she had been a topic of hospital gossip. _Maybe I should open with who I am at the next location_, Sarah thought. It had certainly made for a change in the nurse's attitude.

"Could you get him the message, please? It's important."

"Sure, I can do that," replied the nurse, still smiling.

"Thank you," Sarah said. She left the ward at a brisk pace, eager to get away. _I never thought I'd be glad to be going to a morgue_, she thought.

Revealing who she was made no difference with the morgue attendant. He was a strange little man, reminding Sarah of Marty Feldman in _Young Frankenstein_. All he lacked was the costume and the hunched back. He stared blankly at her with his bugged-out eyes when she asked about Greg, then invited her to come in with a sweep of his arm. She wondered if he'd been born with a creepy nature and that was why he'd gravitated toward this job, or if the job itself had brought about the creepiness. She was disappointed not to find Greg in the morgue, but relieved to move on to the next location on Foreman's list.

Two hours later, Sarah returned to the conference room, fighting back panic. She had been everywhere on Foreman's list twice. She'd tried the cafeteria, the lobby, and any other public area of the hospital. She'd left messages with the nurses in the coma-ward, the attendant in the morgue, and even taped a note to the counter in the empty clinic. There'd been no sign of Greg anywhere.

Greg's fellows were sitting around the conference room table. Taub was holding a sleepy Maggie while the others were looking through files. Remy was the first to glance up as the door opened. Her face fell when she saw that Sarah was alone.

"No luck?" she asked anxiously.

"No," Sarah said. She felt like crying. Foreman got up, pulling out a chair for her beside Taub, and she dropped into it. Maggie climbed into her lap, her tail wagging furiously, and Sarah buried her face in the dog's neck.

"I'm sorry," Foreman said, patting her shoulder awkwardly.

"He'll turn up," Chase said calmly. Sarah looked up in time to see Remy glaring at him. She noticed for the first time the distance between them. Though their chairs sat side by side, the two of them were moved as far from each other as possible. _What are they arguing about?_ Sarah wondered. _Does it have something to do with Greg?_ She stared around the table, taking in the files strewn about. A white-board had been pulled over. Sarah stared at the writing on it, reading "Nerve damage during debridement? Phamtom limb pain? CRPS?"

"Are these Greg's medical files?" she asked.

"Yeah," Taub said. "If House ever….When House turns up, we have a few ideas to run past him."

"That's good," Sarah said, fighting back tears. She didn't want to break down in front of the fellows. They needed to concentrate on what they were doing. "I…I think I'm going to go upstairs."

"Where are you going?" Foreman asked.

"I met some folks from a nursing home yesterday," Sarah replied. "They're up in gerontology. One of the women really likes Maggie."

"Ok. If House turns up, we'll call you." Foreman moved to get the conference room door for her.

"Thank you," Sarah said.

It took her a few minutes to find the gerontology ward. All she knew was that it was on the 8th floor. She turned the wrong way out of the elevator and wound up making a complete loop of the floor before she found it. She shook her head at herself; if she'd turned the other direction, she would have only had to go a few feet.

Sarah stepped hesitantly into the patient lounge, waiting for a nurse to intercept her. A woman in scrubs started toward her and Sarah stopped, anticipating the inevitable interrogation.

"Queenie!" Sarah turned toward the cry and spotted Meryl sitting with a couple of women in front of a large tv. The other women waved and Sarah realized they were all from the group in the cafeteria. She scanned the room quickly, looking for Bob. Her heart sank as she realized that he wasn't there.

"Are you looking for someone?" Sarah turned her attention from the room as the scrub-clad woman reached her.

"Yes," she said. "An older man…." She stopped, feeling herself flush. _Duh! You're in the gerontology ward!_ she chided herself. She tried again. "I'm afraid I only know his first name, which is Bob. He's part of a group brought in from a nursing home yesterday. He's pretty ornery…"

"I know who you mean," the woman said, smiling. "He was just here not that long ago. Let me go check his room."

"Thanks," Sarah said. The woman moved away and Sarah realized that Meryl was waving at her frantically. She forced a smile onto her face and carried Maggie over to her.

"You brought Queenie," Meryl said happily.

"Yes, I did," Sarah replied, settling Maggie into the older woman's arms. "How are you today?"

"Oh, we're fine," answered one of the women beside Meryl. "They found rooms for us all and we're just glad to be somewhere warm."

"The snow's stopped," Sarah said, turning toward the room's windows. She froze as her eyes fell on a pair of men sitting in an alcove under one of the windows. As she watched, the older man said something to his companion. She breathed out a sigh of relief as Greg turned to stare at her.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: It's Friday and I'm back! This chapter is brief, but I think you'll enjoy it. It was scary as all get out to write, but lots of fun too! Barbara Bennett's column on House and kissing was inspiring and a great reminder of just how sensual our favorite doctor can be. Many thanks to my beta, Brighid45, not just for her invaluable editing of my writing but also for our many long IM chats about House and many other things besides. Thanks to all of you for reading, signing up for alerts, adding to favs, and reviewing as well. I really appreciate it! Lastly, for those of you who've really enjoyed the Chadley (or Chirteen if you prefer) subplot, have no fear - they will return next chapter. This one, however, belongs to Greg and Sarah alone. **

After a few minutes of staring out at the snow-covered roof-tops below, House dared to look over at Bob. The older man was watching him, his face full of amusement.

"Damn, son. You have got it bad, don't ya?" he asked. House felt the flush returning to his face and looked down. His hand was resting on the table, the fingers splayed, and he studied it. After a second, a gnarled hand came to rest on his wrist and he looked up to see Bob staring intently at him, the humor gone from his face.

"Do ya love her?" House wanted to look away but the older man's flinty-eyes were boring into him. He felt pinned. After a second, Bob let go of him and House sank back into his chair.

"She…she'd be better off without me."

"Didn't ask you that," Bob replied.

"I'll wind up hurting her."

"And if you walk away now it won't affect her at all."

"I didn't say that," House protested. "But maybe it will hurt…less."

Bob folded his arms across his chest. "So, you're planning to fail?"

"No! I just…know the odds."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, I'm 15 years older than she is. My liver's bound to crap out in a few years, after all the pills and drinking I've done. Why should she have to watch that?"

"We're all dying," Bob said with a shrug. "For all you know, she could get hit by a bus tomorrow."

"That's hardly encouraging," House replied.

"You ever wonder how I came to be a resident of Whispering Pines?" Bob sat up a little straighter in his chair.

"No. Let me guess – I'm supposed to look at you and realize that if I don't take this chance with Sarah, I'm going to end up all alone."

"It could still happen. I wasn't supposed to end up all alone," Bob shrugged.

"You were married?"

"_I_ was the one who was supposed to go first – she was 12 years younger. I planned for it. I worked hard, bought all kinds of life insurance - made sure she would be provided for after I was gone. I never thought…" Bob shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Car accident – she was on her way to work. I was at home – I'd finally retired a few months earlier. I was vacuuming and didn't hear the phone when they called. As soon as I heard that cop's voice on the answering machine, I knew. Made enough of those calls myself back in the day." Bob looked away, staring out the window. House shifted in the hard chair.

"Is there a point to this story?" he asked after a moment.

"You're the genius – can't you figure it out?" the old man snapped. He turned back from the window to glare at House. "You know what - you're a chicken shit. You can make all the excuses you want but that's what it all comes down to."

"I told you, she…"

"Yeah yeah yeah. You're going to kick off soon and she deserves better." Bob leaned forward suddenly, catching House's wrist and pinning him with his glare. "You're right. She does deserve better. The thing is, she wants you. Now, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you'd better figure it out, Son. She's here." The old man let go of him and jerked his head toward the lounge. House turned. Sarah was standing near Meryl, staring at him. He stared back, feeling his heart start to pound. As he watched, Bob stepped over to her and said something. She turned toward him, nodding. House could see her swallow nervously. He sat up straighter, wincing a little, as they started toward him.

"Greg…" Sarah's voice was quiet. He could see how agitated she was. There were lines of tension around her eyes and her hands shook slightly. She reached out toward him hesitantly. Her hand hovered between them for a moment before she let it drop to her side.

"Here," Bob said gruffly. He jerked his chair around the table and pushed it up behind Sarah. She sank into it, shooting a quick smile at the older man before turning her gaze back to House. He shifted on his chair, flinching as the denim from his jeans scraped across his scar.

"Are you going to talk to the girl or just stare at her?" Bob demanded after another minute of silence passed.

"Bob," Sarah said, keeping her eyes on House.

"What?"

"Back off."

Bob laughed. "Sure, sweetheart. Just remember, if this idiot turns you down, I'm here for ya."

"Get lost," Sarah replied, smirking a little. House felt his own lips twitching. Bob patted Sarah on the shoulder twice and shuffled away. Another minute passed and the amusement faded from Sarah's face. She took a deep breath and House braced himself.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

House stared at her. He couldn't have heard her right. "What?"

"I let you down. You…you admitted what happened Saturday night and...that couldn't have been easy. Everyone was so busy yelling at each other – no one acknowledged what you said. I just stood there and let you walk out." Sarah hung her head. When she looked back up, he could see tears in her lashes. "I'm so sorry, Greg. You deserved better from me." She fell silent, waiting for him to say something, but he had no idea how to respond. He'd admitted to failure and she acted like it was an accomplishment. He'd walked out and abandoned her in the chaos and _she_ was apologizing as if she'd done something wrong. He stared at her, watching as a flush crept up her face and more tears gathered.

"Greg, please say something," she said at last. "If you're angry…"

"You're right," he said and she flinched. He cringed but struggled on, watching as her expression moved from hurt to puzzled. "I meant, before. In the room. We aren't _friends_... Dammit, I'm saying this all wrong!" He growled the last, turning away from her to stare out the window; his heart was pounding again. He jumped when her hand covered his. He turned back to face her reluctantly and was surprised to find no anger in her eyes.

"It's ok," she said quietly.

"No! I want…I need to say this."

"Ok." Sarah gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I want to be more than just your friend. I want to be with you. I want us…I want there to be an _us_." The words came out in a rush and he shied away, looking down at their joined hands. _That was really smooth_, he thought, bracing himself for the inevitable rejection. He waited for her to pull her hand free or to laugh at him. When she did neither, he looked up and saw that she was smiling. She did let go of his hand then, but the next second she was holding his face between both of her hands and she was kissing him. He kissed her back, moving his hand up to the back of her head and threading his fingers into her soft hair.

"Whoo!" someone shouted. Whistling and cat-calls reached them and House felt his face flush. Sarah drew back reluctantly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. A few groans of disappointment sounded from the lounge behind her.

"Kiss him again!" someone yelled. Other voices joined in a chorus of agreement. House was aware of faces turned towards them, but he kept his eyes on Sarah's features. She was blushing.

"We should probably get out of here," she murmured. House nodded, not trusting his voice. She reluctantly let go of him and turned to face the lounge, calling out. "Hey Bob!"

"You wanna compare?" the old man asked, puckering his lips as he strode toward them.

Sarah shook her head, laughing. "No more cheap thrills for you," she replied. "How about doing something useful?"

"Like what?" Bob sauntered up closer and Sarah lowered her voice.

"Find us a wheelchair," she said quietly. Bob glanced at House and nodded.

"Sure, sweetheart." He turned and started for the nurses' station. Sarah dropped back into her chair and reached out to reclaim House's hand.

"I thought we could go back to our room. You can stretch your leg out and we can…talk. Ok?"

"Ok," House said, smiling. He didn't really care where they were going. He felt dazed by happiness. He sank back in the hard chair, relishing the feel of Sarah's hand in his.

* * *

Sarah's relief at finding Greg was short-lived. He didn't seem pleased to see her and she wasn't sure if he was frightened, angry, or both. Bob was hovering and she sent him away, hoping Greg would talk to her once they were alone. He remained silent, even as she stumbled through an apology for her behavior in the conference room. Finally she pleaded with him to say something.

The last thing she expected was his halting declaration that he wanted to be more than friends. She wanted to scream and jump for joy, but the terror in Greg's face sobered her. She caught his face in her hands and kissed him. After a second he responded, threading his hand into her hair. The touch of his lean fingers sent a shiver through her.

When the crowd of senior citizens behind her began to cheer and whistle, Sarah drew back, watching Greg closely. His face was flushed but the look of fear had left him. He was staring at her, looking stunned. As she watched, a smile spread across his face. She smiled back, feeling almost giddy with joy and relief.

"Kiss him again!" called a voice and Sarah fought back laughter. Other voices joined in, sounding their agreement, and Sarah felt her face growing warm.

"We should probably get out of here," she murmured. Greg nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. Sarah reluctantly let go of him and turned toward the lounge. Dozens of beaming faces greeted her. Even Maggie seemed to be smiling, her tail wagging furiously as she watched from Meryl's lap. Sarah felt her smile grow wider as she called out. "Hey Bob?"

"You wanna compare?" Bob sauntered forward, puckering his lips at her, and she laughed.

"No more cheap thrills for you," she chided, shaking her head at him. "How about doing something useful?"

"Like what?" The old man drew near and Sarah lowered her voice.

"Find us a wheelchair." She hadn't missed the way Greg had winced each time he shifted in the chair. He hadn't gotten to eat his breakfast or take his medicine this morning and he was obviously hurting. Bob glanced over at him for a second and nodded, his smirk turning to a genuine smile.

"Sure, sweetheart." He turned and started for the nurses' station. Sarah dropped into her chair and reached out to catch Greg's hand.

"I thought we could go back to our room," she told him, feeling suddenly nervous about his reaction to the wheelchair. "You can stretch your leg out and we can…talk. Ok?"

"Ok," Greg said. He was still smiling at her and Sarah thought he seemed dazed.

When Bob arrived with a wheelchair a few minutes later, Greg moved into it without protest. He winced as he shifted his bad leg, seeming almost surprised by the pain.

"I'll get Maggie," Bob murmured, patting Sarah's shoulder. She waited as Greg settled back in the seat before moving to take the handles.

"Ready?" she asked. He tipped his head back to give her a tired smile.

"Let's go," he said quietly. Sarah nodded and moved the chair forward. Bob met them at the door with Maggie in his arms. He handed the dog to Greg, beaming proudly at him.

"You did good, son," he said. Greg ducked his head and Sarah could see the flush on the back of his neck.

"Bob…" she said in warning, fighting a smile.

"Alright, alright. I'm backin' off." He grinned at Sarah and moved aside so she could roll the chair through the doorway.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief when they made it into their room without encountering anyone else. She'd caught a glimpse of a grinning nurse up on the eighth floor and knew it wouldn't take long for word of their kiss to spread through the hospital. She settled Maggie into the room's chair before pushing the wheelchair up to the bed and setting the brake.

Greg hissed in pain as he got to his feet. He moved gingerly onto the bed, fumbling with the controls to raise it into a seated position. Sarah moved to help him. He hissed again as he leaned back but he didn't reach to rub at the leg. Sarah frowned, realizing that he hadn't touched it at all today. _Does it hurt that much?_ she wondered. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she moved to his bag and dug out a pair of the soft flannels he wore to sleep. He arched a brow at her as she approached with them.

"You're that eager to get me out of my pants?" he asked snarkily. Sarah could see that some of the fear was back in his eyes.

"I just thought you'd like to slip into something a little more comfortable," she answered, using the old cliché deliberately. She was relieved when Greg smirked in response. He took the pants and eased off the bed, moving slowly to the bathroom. Once the door closed behind him, Sarah moved around to the other bed, gathering up their uneaten breakfast and putting the containers back in the bag. She dropped it into the room's wastebasket, her mind racing. Greg needed to eat to take his medication, but Sarah didn't want to leave him. After a moment's thought, she pulled his cell phone from her pocket, finding Remy's number in his contacts. Sarah heard the bathroom door open as Remy answered and looked up to see Greg emerging.

"Did you find him?" Remy asked tersely. Sarah shifted the phone to her other hand and stepped forward to take Greg's jeans from him. She started to carry them toward his bag but froze as his arm came around her. His lips brushed her temple and she turned toward him.

"Yes," Sarah said, stifling a giggle as he drew her closer, his lips drifting down slowly to trace along her jaw-line.

"Where was he? Is he alright? Where…."

"He's ok," Sarah said, cutting her off. "He hasn't eaten anything yet today. Could one of you bring him some lunch?" It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on what Remy was saying as Greg moved closer and closer to her mouth.

"Where are you?"

"We're back in our room," Sarah said. Greg's brushed her lips lightly with his before kissing the corner of her mouth.

"I'll be up with some sandwiches in a few minutes," Remy said.

"Great," Sarah said breathlessly. She ended the call as Greg grazed her lips with his own once more. She slipped her arms around him, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. She felt him flinch as he shifted his weight and she drew back.

"Go sit on the bed," she murmured.

"Come with me," he said.

"I'll be right there," she promised, smiling at him. Greg responded by taking the jeans from her hand and tossing them toward his bag. He pulled her toward the bed. With a laugh, Sarah went with him, hopping up to sit beside him.

A knock on the door made them come up for air. Greg drew back quickly as the door to the room slid open. Sarah looked past him to see Remy coming in, carrying a bag. Chase followed her with a drink carrier. They both came to an abrupt stop. Remy's face flushed and Chase grinned. Sarah moved, quickly hopping down and coming around to get the food from them.

"They were, uh, out of Reubens," Remy said, clearly embarrassed. "I hope ham and cheese is alright." Her eyes roamed the room, not resting on either Sarah or Greg. Greg's face was flushed and he was staring at the floor.

"It's fine," Sarah said briskly, taking the bag from Remy. She put it on the empty bed's tray table and Chase set the drink carrier beside it.

"You need anything else?" he asked, clearly amused.

"We're fine," Sarah said, steering him toward the door. Remy was already there, clearly eager to escape. "Thanks for this."

"Sure," Chase said, moving slowly.

"Come on, Chase," Remy said tersely. She grabbed his wrist and tugged him out the door. "Sorry," she murmured, sliding the door shut. Sarah sighed and turned to see that Greg was still staring away, refusing to look at her.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly.

"Yes, I am," Sarah replied, moving swiftly to the bed. She clambered up beside him and reached over to lift his chin. The fear was back in his eyes again. "I want there to be an _us_ too," she said, moving forward to kiss him. After a second she felt the tension leaving him as he returned her kiss, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close once more.


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: Hello, dear Readers! No, I did not fall off the face of the Earth. Me and the muses were having some communication issues. I'm going to blame it on my former boss, who tried to be as demanding as possible for his last two weeks in office (reminding me daily why I refer to him as my 3-year-old). He's gone now and the new boss seems terrific (for one thing, he refers to me as "Number One," as in Star Trek, which has me cracking up) so hopefully that means the muses will stop hiding from me. We have a few more chapters to go in this story as the last of the plot threads get sewn up. **

Thirteen pushed her salad around her plate. She'd managed to force down half of it before she'd given up. She was too anxious to be hungry. She looked up to see Chase calmly eating a sandwich and felt her temper flare. _How can he be so relaxed after everything that happened this morning?_ she fumed. _House is missing. Cuddy's probably going to fire him, and us too. _She looked away, staring out one of the cafeteria windows as she tried to compose herself. The voice in her head was relentless. _For all you know, he's just as worried as you are_, it taunted. _He showed you this morning how capable he is at hiding his real feelings._ Her temper faded as her anxiety increased. How was she ever going to know if Chase was being genuine or not?

"I wonder how long it will take the plows to clear the roads." Taub's voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned her attention back to the table.

"Have you heard from Rebecca?" Foreman asked him.

Taub nodded. "I talked to her last night. A few of the neighbors came over and they were all planning to spend the night in front of the fireplace."

"You could have brought her in with you," Chase said.

"When I left the apartment we still had power," Taub said. "Besides, given the way Cuddy reacted to Sarah, it's probably best that I didn't."

"What did Cuddy do?" Foreman asked.

"She was furious that House had brought her in, and her dog too," Taub said, grinning. "Sarah never lost her cool though. The nastier Cuddy got, the sweeter she was."

"It was pretty funny," Chase added. He started to say something else but Thirteen's cell phone was ringing. She pulled it from her pocket, saw "House" on her caller id, and quickly answered.

"Did you find him?" she asked, skipping any greetings.

"Yes," Sarah said. Thirteen breathed out a sigh of relief before firing off more questions.

"Where was he? Is he alright? Where…."

Sarah cut her off. "He's ok. He hasn't eaten anything yet today. Could one of you bring him some lunch?" She sounded slightly muffled and there was a rustling sound in the background.

"Where are you?" Thirteen asked.

"We're back in our room."

"I'll be up with some sandwiches in a few minutes."

"Great," Sarah said breathlessly, ending the call. Thirteen stared at the phone for a second before getting to her feet. She started to pile her dishes onto her tray.

"She found him? Is he ok?" Foreman asked.

"She said he's fine," Thirteen replied. "She asked me to bring up a sandwich for him." She lifted her tray and carried it to a trash can on her way to the line. To her annoyance, Chase fell into step behind her in the queue.

"No reubens," he said. "Think House will settle for a ham and cheese?"

"What are you doing?" Thirteen asked.

"I thought you could use a hand carrying everything," he said, putting two sandwiches onto Thirteen's tray before reaching out to snag two bags of chips. He moved on to get drinks while Thirteen bagged up the food. The two of them made their way out of the cafeteria in silence.

The elevator was crowded and they wound up in opposite corners, which suited Thirteen fine. She didn't want to talk to Chase right now. He followed her out onto the sixth floor and she led the way to the room House and Sarah were using.

Thirteen tapped on the room's door before sliding it open. She came to a halt as she took in the scene. House and Sarah were on one bed together, wrapped in an embrace. House jumped guiltily at her entrance and Thirteen thought he was blushing. She averted her eyes, feeling her own face burn as she took in Sarah's appearance. To judge from her flushed face and slightly swollen lips, they'd been kissing for a while. Thirteen dropped her gaze as Sarah came around the bed to get the food.

"They were, uh, out of reubens," Thirteen said, not meeting the other woman's eyes. "I hope ham and cheese is alright."

"It's fine," Sarah said briskly, taking the bag. She put it on the empty bed's tray table and Chase came forward to set the drink carrier beside it. Thirteen edged toward the door, wanting to get out of there, but Chase lingered. He obviously found the situation amusing.

"You need anything else?" he asked Sarah.

"We're fine," Sarah replied, steering him toward the door. "Thanks for this."

"Sure." Chase stole a glance over his shoulder at House. Thirteen lost patience at how slowly he was moving. She stepped forward to catch his wrist.

"Come on, Chase," she said, tugging him with her. She slid the door shut, murmuring an apology to Sarah. Chase started to laugh as soon as the door closed and she glared at him for a second before stalking off toward the elevator. She heard him fall into step behind her, still chuckling. She ignored him, moving briskly to the stairwell and trotting down the two flights to the fourth floor.

Chase's chuckles had diminished to occasional snickers by the time they entered the diagnostics' conference room. Foreman and Taub were already there. Their conversation stopped as Thirteen came in. She moved swiftly around the table to her seat, trying to ignore her companion.

"House alright?" Foreman asked her, shooting a puzzled glance at Chase.

"He's fine," she replied briskly.

Chase snorted. "I'd say he's better than fine." He dropped into a chair beside Taub. The older man looked between Thirteen and Chase, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. Foreman was frowning in concern.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Did you walk in on…something?" Taub asked, his lips twitching.

"They were kissing," Thirteen said tersely. Chase burst out laughing.

"The look…on your face," he said. "It was…priceless." Taub looked between Chase and Thirteen, smiling broadly as amusement replaced the confusion in his face.

"Was it like walking in on your dad?" he asked with mock concern.

"Shut up," Thirteen spat, feeling her face flaming with embarrassment.

"It's perfectly natural," Taub said, struggling not to laugh. "When a man really cares about a woman…" Thirteen pushed back her chair and got to her feet, stalking out of the room. She could hear Taub dissolving into laughter behind her.

She stalked down the hall until she came to a bench. She dropped onto it, shaking her head at herself. Walking in on House _had_ felt like walking in on her father, which was ridiculous. She didn't see House as some sort of paternal figure, did she?

"Ridiculous," she muttered at herself. "You're just…over-tired." She leaned her head back against the wall and shut her eyes. She exhaled slowly, feeling the blush fading from her cheeks.

"Remy? You ok?" Foreman's voice startled her and she jumped, her eyes flying open. She turned to see him coming down the hall toward her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm fine," she muttered, sitting up a little straighter and sliding over on the bench. Foreman dropped onto the end, leaving a little space between them. An awkward silence fell.

"Do you…do you think Cuddy will fire House?" Foreman asked at last.

"I hope not," Thirteen said, staring down at the floor by her feet.

"Yeah. Me too." She looked over at him sharply and Foreman ducked his head. "I mean it," he said.

"Really." Thirteen worked to keep her tone neutral, but some skepticism crept in.

"It's not that I don't want the job," Foreman said. "I do. Just…not like this."

"If she fires him, she'll probably shut down the department again," Thirteen said, looking back to the floor. They fell silent once more, until Foreman spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. Thirteen looked over at him in surprise.

"For what?" she asked.

"I was wrong to fire you," he said quietly. "It wasn't about you. I…it was me. I realized that right after I did it, but I couldn't admit it. I screwed everything up. I'm sorry."

"Oh…kay." Thirteen looked away again, her mind racing.

"I'm not trying to get back together with you," Foreman said quickly. "I…I'd just like it if we could be friends one day."

"Ok," Thirteen said, nodding apprehensively.

"We should get back," Foreman said, getting to his feet. "I think we have a pretty good list of possibilities. I'd like to go over them with House and get some tests scheduled."

"His MRI is set for tomorrow morning," Thirteen said, getting to her feet. It struck her then that Foreman had truly led the team today. He'd kept everyone's focus on the differential, calling for lunch when it became clear that they needed a break. She called out to him as he started down the hallway and he turned to wait as she caught up to him.

"I…I'd like to be friends too," she said, holding out her hand. Foreman took it, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

* * *

House leaned back in the bed, watching as Sarah gathered up the trash from their lunch. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating. He'd demolished his food and wound up stealing half of Sarah's chips. She'd swatted his hand playfully but hadn't pulled her food out of reach. Now apprehension was turning the food in his stomach into a rock.

Sarah returned to the bed, hopping up to sit by his legs again and he moved the tray table that was between them aside. She smiled at him and scooted forward, reaching out to take his hand. He returned her grasp, feeling his heart rate increase.

"Now what?" he asked.

"I think the cable's still out. I did bring that book we were reading…" Sarah let her voice trail off as he shook his head. "You mean with us."

"What changes now that we're…_us_? Do we still hang out? Go on dates? Move in together?" He fired off the questions rapidly, afraid he'd lose his nerve if he hesitated.

"Slow down," Sarah said with a nervous laugh. _Great. You're screwing this up already_, House thought.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring down at their joined hands.

"You don't need to apologize," Sarah said quickly.

"I'm miserable on dates," he said, not looking up.

"Then we don't have to go on dates," Sarah answered easily. House looked up, searching her face for any trace of disappointment. "I like being with you. The location isn't important."

"Ok." He continued to watch her and she smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

"I am just as nervous as you are," she told him.

"The last woman I was with…we didn't really date. She moved in after a week."

"I've dated a few people, but we never quite made it to the moving in stage," Sarah said, blushing a little.

"So," House said after a moment. "Neither of us has any idea what we're doing." Sarah laughed and he felt the knot in his stomach loosen.

"We can figure this out as we go," she said. "We're not on a time-table." She gave his hand another squeeze.

"We just…take things as they come then."

"Yeah." Sarah scooted a little closer to him, reaching out to cup his cheek with her free hand. "I'm not looking for perfection, Greg." She smiled at him and he sighed, leaning into her hand. He wanted to trust this. He _needed_ to trust this.

"Ok," he said, giving her a tentative smile. She leaned forward to kiss him softly. He let go of her hand, reaching up to thread his fingers into her hair. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. A buzzing noise startled them, making them break apart. His cell phone was sitting on the empty bed's tray table and he looked over to see it skidding across the surface as it vibrated. Sarah sighed and leaned over to catch it as it slipped off the table's edge.

"You want me to answer it?" she asked.

"I can't avoid Cuddy forever," House replied. He held out his hand and Sarah passed him the phone with a sympathetic grimace. Sighing, he pushed the send button. "What?"

"House?" Cuddy sounded nervous. "Sarah found you then."

"Yes."

"Good. That's good." An awkward silence fell and House felt the knot returning to his stomach.

"What do you want, Cuddy?" he asked at last.

"We…need to talk."

"When and where?" House asked wearily.

"My office. Fifteen minutes."

"Fine." He ended the call and looked at Sarah. "You heard?"

"I'll come with you," she replied, dropping down off the bed and moving to retrieve his shoes. He shifted to sit sideways on the bed, watching her.

"She's going to fire me. Don't think I need an audience for that."

"I'm not going to think less of _you_ if she chooses to fire you, Greg," Sarah replied, meeting his gaze. He looked away from her.

"I can fight my own battles," he muttered.

"I know that."

"Then why do you want to come with me?"

"I think part of being us means even though you _can_ fight your own battles, you don't _have_ to do it alone anymore."

He stared at her, considering. He didn't understand why this mattered to her but clearly it did. She was looking back at him, her expression earnest and pleading. Finally he sighed.

"Fine. But no fighting with Cuddy until I've got the pool of jello and the web-cam ready."

"That rules out a sneak attack but I suppose I can adjust my tactics," Sarah replied, her eyes sparkling. House laughed, feeling the knot in his stomach loosening.

His gut tightened again as they approached Cuddy's office. Sarah had helped him into his shoes and they'd dropped Maggie off with Chase and Taub in the conference room before going on to the first floor. He'd insisted on walking rather than taking a wheelchair and now he was wishing he'd changed back into his jeans as well. The flannel sleep pants were far more comfortable but also far less dignified. He snorted at the thought. _It's a bit late to be worrying about your dignity now_, he told himself.

He paused in the alcove outside the office, shifting his cane to his left hand for a moment to rub his sweaty palm across his pant leg. Sarah stopped with him, saying nothing. He exhaled slowly, trying to settle his nerves, and switched the cane back to his right hand.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, glancing at Sarah. She nodded, stepping forward to open the office door for him. She pushed it open and then moved aside, letting him lead the way.

Cuddy was waiting behind her desk. Wilson was leaning against the credenza behind her. They both wore worried frowns. Something flashed across Wilson's face for a second when he caught sight of Sarah, but it was quickly replaced with his usual mask of concern. For a moment everyone just stared, and then Cuddy cleared her throat.

"House, we'd hoped to talk with you privately," she said. Her voice sounded strained and House could see lines of tension around her eyes. He ignored her remark, moving to the couch to sit down. Sarah dropped onto the cushion beside him and he reached out to take her hand.

"You can say whatever it is you want to say to me in front of her," he said. Cuddy looked questioningly at Wilson, who shrugged. With a sigh, she got to her feet, coming to sit in one of the chairs at the end of the couch. Wilson followed her, pulling over one of the visitor's chairs from her desk so he could sit beside her. When neither of them said anything, House sat up a little straighter.

"Maybe you could say whatever it is _today_," he suggested. Wilson and Cuddy exchanged glances.

"We're…we're both very concerned about you," Cuddy said, not meeting his eyes. She shot a pleading look at Wilson.

"Yeah, I could see how concerned you both were this morning," House replied.

"We were in shock this morning," Wilson protested. "We thought…we thought this time was different, that you were really trying." House knew the accusation shouldn't surprise him, but the words stung all the same. He felt Sarah tense beside him, her grip on his hand tightening. He stayed silent and after a moment Cuddy fidgeted in her chair. Wilson sighed and went on, using his most can't-you-see-how-reasonable-I'm-being tone.

"If you were in trouble Saturday night, you could have told me. I would have helped you. I've always tried to help you. You used to understand that." He sent a glare Sarah's way and House found that his left hand was curling into a fist. He returned Cuddy and Wilson's gazes with a stony stare, concentrating on stretching out his fingers as he exhaled slowly. Wilson shifted in his chair, raising a hand to the back of his neck.

"Is this about the scripts?" he pressed. "House, I only wrote those to keep you off the streets. If you'd gone out there to score, who knows what would have happened to you. You didn't give me any choice." Sarah shifted slightly on the couch and House could feel her tension increasing. He glanced at her to see that she was staring at Wilson, her expression a mixture of incredulity and fury. Wilson gave Cuddy an anxious look, but she was watching House.

"You wrote those scripts to control me," House said. "You had to make sure I'd always need you."

"I did what I did to protect you," Wilson protested. "You're my friend…"

"Another thing you had no choice in."

"House…" Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. "That…I didn't…"

"I suppose next you'll say I forced you to hire Lucas."

"I told you why I did that," Wilson said patiently. "I had to make sure you weren't going to get hurt again. Lucas knows how self-destructive you can be – I knew he'd understand…"

"You think getting involved with Sarah is _self-destructive_?" House's hand was clenching into a fist again and his heart was pounding.

"Greg," Sarah said quietly. "It's ok."

* * *

When Greg's cell phone had started buzzing, Sarah's first impulse had been to toss it across the room and ignore it. He'd finally started to relax and whoever was calling would undo all of that. She'd retrieved the phone reluctantly, offering to answer it herself, but Greg hadn't wanted to put off the inevitable confrontation.

She'd listened as he agreed to meet Dr. Cuddy in her office. She didn't want him to have to face the dean alone, not after the chaos in the conference room that morning. She was still ashamed of how she'd stood by and let him walk out and she was determined not to let him down again. He'd objected at first but finally he'd agreed to let her go with him.

When they'd reached the office and found not only Cuddy but Wilson waiting, Sarah had been relieved that she had pushed to come along. Wilson's face twisted into an angry frown and she bit back a smirk. _You were hoping for two against one, huh? So sorry I spoiled that for you_, she thought. Greg ignored Cuddy's remark about wanting to speak to him alone and Sarah followed him to the couch. She felt a rush of pleasure and pride when Greg reached out to take her hand, telling Cuddy she could say whatever it was she had to say in front of her. She returned his grasp, feeling how tense he was.

Cuddy came to sit in a chair at one end of the couch and Wilson pulled over a chair to sit beside her. They both fixed their gazes on Greg. No one spoke for a moment, and then Greg lost patience.

"Maybe you could say whatever it is _today_," he suggested. Cuddy and Wilson looked at each other, carrying on some silent debate. Cuddy swallowed visibly and turned back toward Greg.

"We're…we're both very concerned about you," she said. She shot a look at Wilson, silently asking for help.

"Yeah, I could see how concerned you both were this morning," Greg answered dryly. Sarah nearly snorted.

Wilson shook his head slightly. "We were in shock this morning. We thought…we thought this time was different, that you were really trying." Sarah felt Greg flinch and fought down the urge to let go of his hand and slap Wilson. Greg stayed silent, and Cuddy shifted in her chair. After a moment, Wilson sighed and went on. He adopted a patronizing tone that set Sarah's teeth on edge.

"If you were in trouble Saturday night, you could have told me," Wilson said. "I would have helped you. I've always tried to help you. You used to understand that." He shot a glare at Sarah and she glared back at him, her eyes narrowing. She wanted nothing better than to wipe that smug, condescending expression off of his face. Greg was growing more tense beside her. When he remained silent, Wilson shifted in his chair and raised a hand to the back of his neck. Sarah braced herself. He was obviously about to change tactics.

"Is this about the scripts?" he asked. "House, I only wrote those to keep you off the streets. If you'd gone out there to score, who knows what would have happened to you. You didn't give me any choice." Sarah gasped. _He __cannot__ be serious_, she thought. _How could he possibly believe writing scripts for an addict was __helpful__?_ She felt Greg's eyes on her but she couldn't stop staring at Wilson. He looked away from her, glancing at Cuddy nervously, but the dean was staring fixedly at Greg.

"You wrote those scripts to control me," Greg said. Sarah was amazed at how calm he sounded; she could feel a slight tremor in his hand but his voice stayed even. "You had to make sure I'd always need you."

"I did what I did to protect you," Wilson protested. "You're my friend…"

"Another thing you had no choice in." Greg's voice was bitter but his face remained impassive. Wilson flinched, flushing a little and Sarah felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing him discomfited. Her satisfaction lasted only a second. She could feel Greg's tension increasing. He was holding together, but how much more of this could he take?

"House…" Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. "That…I didn't…"

"I suppose next you'll say I forced you to hire Lucas." An edge of anger crept into Greg's voice. He was trembling slightly now. Sarah was torn between a desire to get him out of there and an urge to let Wilson have it.

"I told you why I did that." The patronizing tone was back in Wilson's voice. "I had to make sure you weren't going to get hurt again. Lucas knows how self-destructive you can be – I knew he'd understand…"

"You think getting involved with Sarah is _self-destructive_?" Greg was shaking now and when Sarah looked over at him she saw that his left hand was clenched into a fist.

"Greg. It's ok," she said. When he didn't acknowledge her words, she gently laid her free hand on his arm. He started, turning to stare at her. "It's ok," she repeated. He shut his eyes, exhaling slowly, and she felt the trembling slow. She tightened her grip on his arm and squeezed his hand.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cuddy demanded. Sarah tore her eyes away from Greg to find the older woman looking between him and Wilson. "Wilson…you didn't!"

"One of my neighbors took great delight in telling me all about a man who'd been around asking questions about me," Sarah said. Cuddy turned to stare at her. "Do you really expect me to believe that you didn't know?"

"I _didn't!_"

"Right." Greg snorted in derision. "Your head of oncology and your boyfriend did this behind your back." Sarah looked over at him, relieved to see that some of the tension had left his face. His trembling was no longer visible though she still could feel a slight tremor running through him.

Cuddy's face flushed. "We…discussed it," she admitted. "But we decided it was a bad idea."

"No," Wilson retorted sharply. "_You_ decided it was a bad idea. _I_ decided that my friend's health and safety were more important than your career." Sarah stifled a snicker and Greg shifted on the couch, turning toward her.

"You know," he said, "when you sue Wilson and Lucas, you really should name the hospital too – get the deep pockets." He was trying to sound casual and almost managing it. Sarah smiled at him and was relieved to see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.

"_Sue!_" Cuddy almost shrieked the word. She turned to glare at Wilson. "This is exactly why I said this was a bad idea!"

"I did what I thought I had to do," Wilson replied tersely. Cuddy opened her mouth to reply but Sarah cut her off.

"Clearly the two of you have some things to discuss," she said, glancing at Greg. "We'll get out of your way so you can do that privately." Greg nodded and she let go of his hand so he could grab his cane. They both got to their feet and Sarah placed a hand lightly on his back. He was moving slowly, obviously in pain.

"Wait," Cuddy protested. "We…we still…" Sarah ignored her, moving with Greg toward the door. When they reached it, she opened it for him and looked back at the older woman.

"Let us know when you've got yourself more…together," she said. She didn't wait for an answer before turning to follow Greg out, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Greg was leaning heavily on his cane, looking exhausted. Pain was etching lines into his face and his trembling had increased. Sarah reached out to put a supportive hand on his back once more.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked, looking around the small waiting area outside the dean's office.

"No!" Greg snapped. He took a shaky breath, lowering his voice. "Let's just…get out of here."

"Ok." Sarah nodded. She waited for him to start forward, letting him set the pace. They made their way slowly out of the waiting area into the clinic and then through the lobby to the elevators. She kept a hand on Greg's back, watching him closely. Inside the elevator, he leaned against one wall and closed his eyes, sighing. Sarah hit the button for the sixth floor and stepped back from the panel to stand beside Greg.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" he asked wearily.

"Maggie can wait a few more minutes," Sarah answered lightly. He studied her for a moment before nodding. He sagged a little more against the elevator wall and she reached out to put her hand on his back again, rubbing in small circles. He shut his eyes, sighing.

"Thank you," he murmured.


	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note: I'm back. I feel like all I do is make excuses in these notes, so I'm not even going to bother this time. I will pass on this piece of tech advice I received last week - assume it is a matter of _when_ your hard-drive will fail, not_ if_, and back-up your data accordingly! You will save yourselves much grief in future that way. I'd like to thank everyone for the reviews and alert sign-ups and favorites - I really appreciate it. I'd also like to thank my beta, Brighid45, for all her help with this story and all our many fun chats about House and food and all sorts of things - they brighten my evenings like nothing else! And now, on with the story.**

The walk from the elevator to the room seemed interminable. House's leg was throbbing painfully and he was glad Sarah was beside him. Her hand rested lightly on his back, offering more emotional support than physical at the moment, for which he was grateful; at least a dozen nurses had gathered in the short stretch of hallway. When he saw them exchanging meaningful glances, he realized why he had the audience. _Not even a blizzard can slow the rumor-mill_, he thought. _They've all heard about that kiss up in gerontology._

When they finally reached the room, Sarah stepped forward to get the door. He hobbled past her, making his way to the bed. She followed, stepping up to help him. He sat back against the mattress, breathing a sigh of relief when he was able to stretch out his leg. It was still throbbing but he thought the danger of a cramp was past. As his tension eased, some of the aching would too.

"Ok?" Sarah asked, reaching for his shoes. She removed them carefully, working to move his bad leg as little as possible in the process.

"Yeah," he said, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when she eased off the second shoe. Sarah gave him a brief smile and carried his shoes over to his bag.

"I should go get Maggie. Your fellows must be tired of dog-sitting duty." She looked at him, and he realized she was waiting for him to say something.

"Hurry back," he said, working to keep his voice casual. Sarah smiled at him again and started for the door. He watched her go, resisting the urge to ask her to stay. _Get a grip_, he told himself. _She'll be quick._ He pulled his gaze from the hallway and looked at the room's clock. He was surprised to discover that it was just after 2 pm; it felt like it should be much later. How was it possible that so many things had happened in such a short space of time? He shifted a little on the bed, moving carefully so he didn't jostle his leg, and exhaled slowly. He could feel the throbbing ease a little more, and he let his head sink back against the mattress.

The last thing he wanted to do was think, but snippets from the scene in Cuddy's office kept replaying in his mind. Wilson's words had stung, but he realized now that even at the time, he hadn't been surprised by the man's venom. At some point their relationship had twisted from a friendship into something unhealthy. Sadness stabbed through him at the thought.

_When did it go wrong?_ he asked himself. _With Amber? With Tritter? Or was it before that? _He remembered having fun with Wilson in the past, but somewhere along the way things had changed. He wasn't sure if his behavior had grown more outrageous or if Wilson had grown less patient but more and more often conversations turned into lectures, each man assigning hidden motives to the other. _Was it all the Vicodin?_ House wondered. _Or was some part of it just __me__?_ The thought disturbed him. He was determined to stay clean, but what if that wasn't enough? He shook his head at himself. For years he'd been convinced that winding up alone was inevitable. He'd become resigned to the fact that, sooner or later, he'd drive everyone away. He hadn't seen much point to Nolan's assignment that he meet someone new, but he'd done it anyway. _Now you can't un-ring the bell_, he thought. As terrifying as the thought of being with Sarah was, the thought of being without her was much worse.

The sound of the door sliding open broke him out of his reverie. He turned to see Sarah coming in. Maggie was in her arms; as soon as the dog spotted him, she began to squirm. Her tail wagged frantically as she stretched toward him. House felt his lips twitch into a smile. The dog began to lap at the air in his direction as Sarah brought her closer; the moment she was set on the bed, she bounded up to lap at his face.

"Little help here," he growled, trying to dodge Maggie's tongue. Sarah laughed and reached out to move the dog, settling her beside him. Maggie leaned into him, her tail beating against the bed, and Sarah put a hand on her to keep her in place.

"The roads are clearing," she said. "And the hospital's power has been restored."

"Maybe you can go home tomorrow," House said. His stomach clenched at the thought. Did he go with her, or wait here until Chase had a chance to search his apartment?

"When we go, we go together," Sarah said firmly. He felt a rush of pleasure.

"Ok."

"But not tomorrow. You've got tests scheduled. An MRI at 8 am, something called an MRA after that, and I think there's something else too."

"Minions have been busy," House muttered, looking away. He hadn't expected Chase or Thirteen to follow up on rescheduling the MRI, let alone to bring in the rest of the team or set up additional tests.

"Dr. Taub said I was supposed to ask you when you'd like your total body scan," Sarah said.

House smirked. "Asshole." He looked back to Sarah, found her watching him, her expression a mixture of bemusement and concern, and decided it was time to change the subject. "Is the cable back?" He looked around the bed for the remote, but didn't see it. With a sigh, Sarah moved around the foot of the bed to the end-table and pulled it from the drawer.

"Here," she said, bringing the device to him. "Channel surf away." He took it, scrolling through the channels, and found nothing but static.

"So much for that," he said, dropping the remote to the bed in disgust. "We need to sneak up to Pedes. They've got a new Wii …"

"I think sneaking is useless," Sarah replied. "There's a herd of nurses hanging around in the halls on this floor."

"Probably hoping to catch us making out. What do you say we got out there and give them a show?"

"Why go out there?" Sarah countered. "It's more comfortable in here and we can always open the blinds." She gave him a challenging grin and he reached out to catch her hand.

"Let 'em find their entertainment elsewhere," he growled, pulling her close.

When Maggie wormed her way in between them a few minutes later, Sarah drew back with a sigh.

"Brat dog," she muttered. She lifted Maggie and set her behind House's legs. The dog promptly moved up to his waist. He imagined for a moment that she was smirking at them. Sarah shook her head and he frowned, noticing a slight redness around her mouth. He reached up to touch her face and realized that his rough beard had scratched her skin.

"Do you want me to shave?" he asked.

"We've been an _us_ for all of 3 hours," Sarah replied wryly. "I think it's a bit early for me to start telling you how to dress and groom."

"That means at some point you think it would be alright. When would that be, exactly?"

She gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know. No time-tables, remember?"

"Right." He traced the irritated skin with his thumb. "I _could_ shave."

Sarah smiled, cocking her head to one side. "You might look sexy without all that stuff on your face," she said.

"Right," House snorted. "I'll still be me."

"Then you'll definitely look sexy, whatever you decide to do," she replied, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. She moved to their bags, rummaging in hers for something. He watched her, feeling his heart beating a little faster. _Sexy? Needs to have her eyes checked_, he thought, trying to ignore the rush of pleasure he felt.

"Greg? You ok?" He started at her voice and realized that she'd been speaking to him.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

"I said I brought that book we were reading the other day. Would you like to hear some more of it?" House studied her for a moment, considering. He'd enjoyed listening to Sarah read, and the story had been surprisingly interesting.

"Ok," he said at last, scooting over on the bed and patting the spot beside him. Sarah grinned and came over to sit where he'd indicated. He let himself sink a little lower in the bed as she began to read. His eyelids were growing heavy and her voice was soothing. He allowed his eyes to slip shut and after a few minutes, he drifted to sleep.

* * *

Thirteen smothered her third yawn in as many minutes. She glanced across the table to catch Taub doing the same thing. Foreman looked tired as well. The only person who was still going strong was Chase. _Of course_, Thirteen thought. _He came in later. Right before all hell broke loose._ She grimaced, remembering the way Cuddy and Wilson had screamed at each other.

"Let's call it a day," Foreman said, covering his own yawn. "We've got a respectable list of possibilities and the tests are all set. We can start fresh tomorrow." Thirteen, Taub and Chase murmured their assent. They all got to their feet and gathered up the files, putting them in a neat stack in the middle of the table.

Thirteen was the first one out of the room. She headed straight for the elevator intending to find a room to crash in. Her limbs felt heavy and her eyes were gritty. No one joined her by the time the car arrived and she stepped inside. She was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Chase slipped into the car just before the doors could shut. Thirteen stifled a sigh.

"Are you avoiding me?" Chase asked.

"Not successfully," Thirteen said under her breath.

"What?"

"I just…have a lot on my mind."

"You're worried that Cuddy's going to fire us."

"Not just us," Thirteen said irritably.

"I don't think you need to worry. Cuddy will never fire House, and he'll never let her fire us."

"Is that why you're helping him?"

"What?" Chase looked stunned by the question. "No. Of course not." His eyes were wide with shock but Thirteen couldn't help but wonder. _Is this another act?_ _How can I tell when he's being genuine?_ When she continued to stare, Chase sighed. Bitter disappointment tinged his words. "You don't believe me."

"I want to."

"But?"

"I had no idea what you were thinking this morning. You just…shut down. There was nothing to read on your face. It…it made me realize that I don't really know you."

"I had to do that this morning," Chase protested. "I couldn't let Cuddy and Wilson see that I was worried. I was trying to protect you, and House."

"And yourself."

"Yes, and myself," Chase admitted. "Is it so wrong to not want to be fired?"

"No," Thirteen replied. "But this morning…I wasn't sure how far you were willing to go to save yourself."

"I'm not going to be in any position to help House if I get fired," Chase protested. "And I do want to help him." He stared at her, his eyes wide and pleading and after a moment she sighed.

"Ok." She looked away from him, her mind still racing. There was some truth behind Chase's words, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't the whole story.

The elevator came to a stop and she started forward. Chase fell into step with her and she bit back a sigh of exasperation.

"Look," she said, "I just want to find somewhere to crash."

"Me too," Chase replied, all innocence. "There's a room down the hall we can use."

"Chase..."

"C'mon, it's right up here." Chase caught her hand and tugged her down the hall. He held the door for her and she reluctantly stepped inside. It was a small room and to her dismay she only saw one bed.

"Chase, I just want to sleep," she said.

"I know," he replied, stepping around her toward the bed. "That's all I want to do too." He moved around to the far side and started to turn down the covers.

"I'd…I'd prefer to sleep alone." Chase froze with the blanket in his hand and looked up at her, his expression full of hurt.

"Oh." He let the blanket drop.

"It's just…we're moving too fast," Thirteen stammered. "We…we were going to take things slow, get to know each other…"

"You're the one who started pulling clothing off the other night," Chase protested.

"I know," she answered, feeling her face flush. "I…I was upset and I just wanted…some comfort."

"And in the morning? What was that? More comfort?"

"I'm not saying I didn't want you or that I didn't…enjoy myself," Thirteen answered, feeling her flush deepen. "I just…I think we need to back up a little."

Chase stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Ok," he said. He stepped around the bed, moving toward the door. Thirteen winced at the hurt in his face.

"Chase, wait," she said, reaching out to catch his arm as he reached for the door. "You…you can stay." He looked up at her in surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Thirteen lied. "We're…we're just going to be sleeping." She forced a smile onto her face. Chase smiled back.

"Ok. Ladies first." He gestured her toward the bed and she lead the way, dropping her lab coat into a chair and kicking off her shoes before climbing up. She lay on her side, facing toward the door. Chase climbed up behind her, draping his arm around her waist as he spooned her. She started as his lips brushed the back of her neck.

"Sleep well," he murmured. She forced herself to exhale, trying to slow her pounding heart. She heard his breathing deepen and realized he was already out. She shut her eyes, willing herself to relax. As she drifted to sleep, her final thought was that she had done a very stupid thing, again.

* * *

Greg reached up to caress Sarah's face, his fingers tracing over the irritated skin around her mouth. She shivered a little at his touch.

"Do you want me to shave?" he asked.

"We've been an _us_ for all of 3 hours. I think it's a bit early for me to start telling you how to dress and groom," Sarah replied.

Greg tilted his head a bit. "That means at some point you think it would be alright. When would that be, exactly?" He sounded half-amused, half-wary and Sarah wanted to smack herself. Hadn't she promised him that they'd take things as they came?

"I don't know," she replied with a laugh, trying to hide her nervousness. "No time-tables, remember?"

"Right." He ran his thumb along the outside of her lips. His touch was gentle, a caress hidden inside a casual gesture. "I _could_ shave."

"You might look sexy without all that stuff on your face," Sarah said, cocking her head to one side as she tried to picture it.

Greg snorted. "Right. I'll still be me."

"Then you'll definitely look sexy, whatever you decide to do," Sarah answered. She leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips before moving to her bag. She'd brought the Rex Stout novel they'd been reading before Taub arrived in the Hummer. She pulled it out now and turned, holding it up for Greg to see.

"I brought this book. Would you like to hear some more of it?" He stared blankly at her, clearly lost in thought, and she tried again. "Greg? You ok?"

"Sorry," he said with a start. "What did you say?"

"I said I brought that book we were reading the other day. Would you like to hear some more of it?" Greg looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded.

"Ok," he said. He slid over on the bed and patted the place beside him. Sarah came over to hop up at his side. He sank a little lower in the bed as she opened the book and began to read.

"'At nine o'clock we were back in the office, Lon in the red leather chair and Wolfe and I at our desks,'" she read. "'And Fritz was serving coffee and brandy. The hour and a half in the dining room across the hall had been quite sociable…'" Sarah started as Greg's head came to rest against her shoulder. She turned to see that his eyes were shut and he was breathing deeply. He'd fallen asleep. Sarah smiled and let the book shut in her lap. She shifted a little on the bed, slipping an arm around Greg and pillowing his head a little more. When he began to snore softly, she stifled a giggle.

"It's been one hell of a day, hasn't it?" she murmured, reaching up to caress his face. She froze as her gaze drifted to the hallway. Dr. Cuddy was outside the room, staring in at them even as she reached out to open the door. Their eyes met and Sarah raised her hand in a stop gesture. Cuddy drew back from the handle and Sarah squirmed to get out from under Greg. He stirred a little, mumbling something, and she shh-ed him.

"I'll be right back," she promised, dropping a kiss onto his temple as her feet reached the floor. He settled at once, the soft snores resuming. She looked up to see Cuddy frowning and suppressed a smirk. _Alright, I'll admit it - I'm marking my territory_, she thought, feeling her lips twitch.

Cuddy stepped back as Sarah came out into the hallway. Neither woman spoke until the door was shut.

"How's he doing?" Cuddy asked, nodding toward the room.

"He's sleeping," Sarah replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"I can see that," the other woman replied, her tone exasperated. She craned her neck, trying to peer around Sarah.

"I'm not going to wake him up," Sarah said firmly. "Whatever you want will have to wait." With a sigh, Cuddy looked back to her.

"Actually, I came to talk to you," she said. Sarah stared at her in surprise, taking in the lines of tension around her eyes and the slight tremor in her hands.

"Go ahead," she prompted. She was grateful that she had her arms folded across her chest; if they were at her side, her hands would be shaking too.

"I…I want you to know that I had nothing to do with Lucas' investigation. Wilson and I did discuss you. We were concerned about House…getting hurt. But I told Wilson having you investigated would be going too far. I had no idea he went ahead with it." Cuddy cleared her throat and rubbed her hands against her skirt before continuing. "I'm…I'm very sorry that he did. After your experiences…having someone following you and questioning your neighbors must have been very upsetting."

"It pissed me off," Sarah retorted.

"I'm sorry," Cuddy repeated, lifting her hands in a helpless gesture. "I had no idea…"

Sarah cut her off. "I believed you the first time."

"Oh…well, good. I mean, I'm glad you realize that I would never…"

"Do you intend to fire Greg?" Sarah blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

"I can't…I can't discuss that with you," Cuddy replied. "It's hospital business."

"Right." Sarah nodded. The older woman fidgeted, picking at the cuff of her blouse for a moment before relenting.

"I'm not going to fire him."

"Good." Sarah nodded again. An awkward silence fell. After a moment, Sarah glanced over her shoulder into the room. Greg was still in the bed, sleeping. She felt her mouth tug up into a smile at the sight of him. She wished that Cuddy would finish with whatever it was she had to say so she could go back to him.

"He's…he's different around you," the other woman said and Sarah turned back to find Cuddy watching her.

"Maybe that's because I let him be different," she replied.

"You didn't know him before," Cuddy protested.

"You're right," Sarah answered. "I don't have the history with Greg that you do. When I met him he was already in recovery. I don't know what he was like when he was using."

"He's done rehab before, but it was never a real effort. I didn't really believe that this time would be any different, which is ridiculous. He went to a mental hospital, for pity's sake. Of course it was different. It's just…" She shrugged helplessly.

"You've been burned before. I get that."

"I'd like to trust him," Cuddy said.

"When I look at him, I see a man who really is trying to be better," Sarah said quietly. "I'm sorry you can't see that."

"Yeah. Me too." Cuddy looked down the hall, her expression wistful. At last she sighed, turning her gaze back to Sarah. "When House wakes up, I do need to speak with him."

"I'll let him know," Sarah replied.

"Thank you." Cuddy gave her a tight smile before turning and walking away. Sarah watched her for a moment before going back into the room.

Greg was still fast asleep and this time she let herself really smile at the sight of him. His hair was sticking up every which way and his face was relaxed, making him look younger and almost vulnerable. She crossed to the bed, found the control and slowly lowered the head. Greg barely stirred as she drew the covers up around him, turned off the overhead lamp, and planted another light kiss on his brow.

**Me again. The book Sarah is reading from is _The Doorbell Rang_, one of Stout's many excellent Nero Wolfe mysteries. I heartily recommend it, and anything else by Stout for that matter!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: Pretty sure I'm gonna make you smile with this one! Let me know, won't you? **

The lights were out in the conference room but House could see well enough with the ambient lighting from the hall and the weak sunshine coming in the windows. He stopped first at the table, studying the several-inches-tall stack of files. He lifted the top one and read his name on the label. He set it aside to pick up another, smirking as he saw the patient's name was "Luke N. Laura." _Wonder if they found them all?_ he thought. He set the file aside and continued around the table, turning a chair away from it so he could sit and study the whiteboard. He stared at the writing, noting that it was all in Foreman's neat hand, and shook his head. _Minions really have been busy_, he thought, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to sting. He ducked his head, staring at the floor as he fought the unexpected rush of emotion.

He'd woken up half-an-hour ago. Sarah had been waiting in the bed beside his, the book she'd started to read to him open in her lap. Her gaze hadn't been aimed at the print, however, but off at nothing. He'd spoken softly, not wanting to startle her, and she'd smiled to see him awake. She'd sobered quickly, however, telling him that Cuddy had come to see her while he was sleeping.

He'd worked to keep his face still as Sarah described Cuddy's apology and insistence that she hadn't been involved in Lucas' investigation. She'd also said that she wasn't going to fire him, though she did want to speak with him. He hadn't been surprised by the request. Of course Cuddy would have a list of conditions. He couldn't blame her; she really should have imposed some terms when he first returned, something more than just requiring him to get his license back. He could tolerate random drug screenings and he already intended to continue working with Nolan. He could cope with whatever other requirements Cuddy came up with.

He hadn't wanted to see Cuddy then, and he and Sarah were both hungry, so they'd decided to see what the cafeteria was offering for dinner. Sarah had needed to take Maggie outside and he'd wanted to find out what his team had been up to, so she'd left him at the fourth floor, telling him she'd meet him in Diagnostics when Maggie was finished. He'd passed no one in the hall and had found the conference room empty.

The door behind him creaked and the lights overhead snapped on. He got to his feet and turned, expecting to find one of the team coming in. He was surprised to find Wilson standing by the door. As House watched, the other man ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and began to pace. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his tie was askew, and his hands were shaking.

"Cuddy's putting me on sabbatical," he said, skipping any greetings. "For six months. I've got two weeks to wrap up any outstanding paperwork and get my cases transferred." He raked through his hair again, bringing his hand to rest on the back of his neck.

"What will you do?" House asked after a moment.

"I…I don't know," Wilson said, lifting his hand and letting it fall to his side. "Cuddy thinks I should work on getting something published."

"It has been a while."

"I do have some papers that I've been meaning to rework into articles," Wilson admitted. He shook his head, his face twisting into a frown. "I hope Sarah's worth it," he snapped. The abrupt change of mood was startling.

"This isn't her fault." House felt his heart start to pound.

"It's bad enough that she's managed to drive a wedge between us, but now my patients…"

"She didn't drive the wedge," House protested. "It was there long before I met her."

Wilson glared at him. "How…how can you _say_ that?"

House felt his hackles start to rise. "Because it's true."

Wilson's voice took on a pleading tone, though his stare lost none of its fury. "House…I apologized for asking you to leave the apartment."

House shook his head. "That isn't what this is about."

"Then just what _is_ it about? Care to enlighten me?" Sarcasm replaced the attempt at placating.

"Just look at this situation. I meet someone who I want to be with and who wants to be with me, and you can't even be happy for me. What does that tell you?"

"I...I'm just concerned!" Wilson sputtered. "You…you barely know her. You said you were different around her..."

"She makes me feel better about myself. She makes me want to _be_ better," House said quietly. "And you seem to find that threatening. What does that say about our friendship, Wilson?" The two men stared at each other for several minutes. Finally, Wilson looked away.

"I…I don't know what to say," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…I'm sorry, House."

"I'm sorry, too." His pounding heart had slowed and he felt strangely calm. Wilson looked back over at him, letting his hand fall to his side again.

"Maybe…maybe while I'm away…" He shrugged helplessly. "Maybe when I get back…"

"Maybe." Another awkward silence fell.

"I hope…I hope she makes you happy, House," Wilson said at last. He sounded desolate. As he turned and walked out of the room House watched him go, feeling no desire to call him back or go after him. He remembered the last time Wilson had walked away, after Amber, and the panic he'd felt. There was no panic this time, only a little sadness.

He'd returned to his chair by the time Sarah arrived. She let Maggie loose and the dog ran to jump on his good leg. He reached down to scratch behind her ears, smiling a little. Sarah appeared a moment later. Her smile wavered a little as she took in his expression.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Wilson's going on sabbatical for six months," he answered. "He came to tell me."

"Oh." Sarah nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. "Is that a good thing or…?" He smiled at her and reached up to catch her hand.

"It's good," he answered firmly.

"Ok." She smiled back at him. He tugged on her hand.

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling her in for a kiss. She drew back a moment later and he saw again the reddened skin around her mouth. He reached up to trace it gently.

"Sorry about that," he murmured.

"It's a small price to pay," Sarah replied, catching his hand. She gave him a gentle squeeze and looked over at the board. "Looks like your team has been busy."

"Yeah." He glanced away from her, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He couldn't understand why the writing on the board affected him so. _They're just doing their jobs_, he thought. _It's not…personal. _"Let's…let's go get that dinner."

"Alright." Sarah let go of his hand so he could grip his cane and he got carefully to his feet.

He wound up waiting in the hallway with Maggie while Sarah went in to get their dinner. He settled on a bench with the dog beside him. His leg was starting to throb a little and he rubbed at it carefully. Maggie leaned into him, the warm pressure from her body easing some of the pain. He stroked her, enjoying the feel of her soft fur under his fingers. Sarah joined them a few minutes later, carrying a bag and a drink-carrier. House reached out to take the bag, peering inside.

"Slim pickings this evening," she warned. "I think they're running low on supplies."

"Green jell-o? Yuck. Maybe Maggie will like it."

"You are not feeding her jell-o," Sarah protested.

"Aw, you're no fun," he complained.

Somehow they managed to get Maggie and the food up to their room without dropping anything. Sarah settled the dog with a plate of kibble before spreading their supper out on one of the bed's tray tables.

"We have spaghetti," she said, "and breadsticks. I gave the salad a pass. It was half-wilted."

"And green jell-o." House grimaced.

"No one is going to make you eat the green jell-o," Sarah answered, rolling her eyes at him.

"I'll bet Nero Wolfe would refuse green jell-o too," he said. His lips were twitching and he fought hard to keep from smirking.

"I think Wolfe would refuse any jell-o," Sarah replied. "He doesn't eat food from boxes." Her face was serious but her eyes were sparkling. House gave in and laughed.

He continued to harass her about the dessert throughout their meal. When she got up to dispose of their empty containers, he got to his feet and moved to his bag. He pulled out his glasses and then retrieved Sarah's book, holding it up for her to see.

"I thought I might read a little," he said. "You know, out loud." He felt his face flush.

"I'd like that," Sarah said, her face lighting up with her smile. "Just give me a minute." While she finished cleaning up, House moved the tray table aside, and slid over on the bed to make room for her beside him. A few minutes later she settled Maggie by his feet and hopped up beside him. He began to read and she reached out to help steady the book. He let her take over holding it so he could slip his arm around her. Maggie curled up against his ankle; each time he breathed, he took in Sarah's soft scent. A deep sense of contentment filled him.

* * *

Thirteen came awake slowly. The first thing she was aware of was the empty place behind her in the bed. _Where did Chase go?_ she wondered. She sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes. Weak sunlight leaked in around the edges of the blinds and she looked at her watch. It was just after 5. She had only slept a few hours. _That explains while I still feel like lead._ She got stiffly to her feet and moved to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.

She was just coming back into the room when the hall door opened and Chase stepped in. The smell of garlic wafted toward her from the bag in his hand. He held a drink carrier in the other. Thirteen stepped forward to take it.

"They had spaghetti in the cafeteria," he said. "I hope that's alright."

"It's fine. Thanks," she answered. She pulled over the bed's tray table and put the drinks down before hopping up to sit beside it. Chase handed her a container and fork before claiming one of the drinks and settling in the room's chair.

"Did you sleep alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." Thirteen covered a yawn with her hand. "Just not long enough."

"It's been a crazy few days." Chase shifted in the chair, making the vinyl squeak. "Think House will cooperate tomorrow?"

"You think he won't?"

"I don't know. I guess we can always turn to Sarah if we need help."

"I don't think we'll need her help," Thirteen said. "I think he'll be too stunned that we're actually trying to help him to put up much of a fight."

"Foreman seemed to think we were on the right track." Chase shifted again in the chair, watching her closely. "The two of you seemed…friendlier this afternoon."

"He apologized for firing me."

Chase's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"He actually meant it."

"Wow."

"He was different today. He really took charge and kept us all focused. I was…impressed."

"Wow."

"Would you stop saying that?" Thirteen protested. "Tell me what you're really thinking."

"I'm thinking that between House falling in love and Foreman finding some humility, I'm feeling lost. I'm not even sure I'm at Princeton Plainsboro anymore."

"Oh, c'mon!" Thirteen scoffed. "It's not that crazy."

"It's a little bit crazy," Chase replied.

"Ok, maybe a little. But it's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's good." Chase grinned. "For one thing, the two of them should be a little easier to work with now."

"Hopefully." She gave Chase a quick smile before turning her attention to her food. For a few minutes they were silent as they ate.

"I heard something interesting in the cafeteria," Chase told her. He got to his feet to collect her empty container, carrying the trash to the wastebasket.

"What's that?"

"Cuddy's sending Wilson on a six-month sabbatical. He leaves in two weeks."

"That's…sudden."

"The rumor is she's furious with him about something."

"Wow."

"Don't you start," Chase said with a laugh.

"I'm just…surprised. It's always seemed like Cuddy and Wilson were working together, trying to control House. This is really…unexpected."

"No one seemed to know what he did and I didn't want to ask."

"I'm sure we'll hear more over the next few days," Thirteen replied. She was starting to understand what Chase meant about not recognizing PPTH.

"I also heard that Cuddy went up to see House earlier, and got stopped outside the door by Sarah."

Thirteen frowned at him. "How do you hear all this stuff?" she asked.

"I make nice with the nurses," Chase answered, shrugging. "According to my sources, Cuddy is not going to fire House."

"Good." Thirteen felt a great deal of tension leave her. She hadn't realized just how worried she'd been about the prospect of being unemployed.

"I told you she wouldn't. She's still got a thing for him, PI or no PI."

"I think she's missed her chance," Thirteen replied. "He looked pretty cozy with Sarah this afternoon." She smiled a little, remembering how House had blushed. She didn't think she'd ever really seen him embarrassed before.

"Your face was hilarious," Chase said, chuckling. She snatched a pillow from the bed and whacked him with it.

"Shut up," she said, fighting back laughter. She swung the pillow again and Chase caught it, pulling it from her hands.

"Now you are in trouble, Missy," he warned.

"Bring it." She grabbed for the other pillow as his first blow landed. She got in one of her own and then they were both swinging away, laughing hysterically.

"Enough," Thirteen panted, falling backward on the bed. She'd laughed so hard that tears were streaking down her face.

"Do you yield?" Chase asked, looming over her. His serious expression was belied by his twitching lips and sparkling eyes.

"It's a tactical retreat, not a surrender," Thirteen replied, smirking up at him.

"Riight," he drawled, leaning down to kiss her. She let his lips connect and then moved, flipping him onto his back and straddling him.

"See the difference?" she asked, leaning down to capture his lips with hers. She could feel him smiling for a second before he returned her kiss with enthusiasm.

* * *

Sarah watched Greg walk away from the elevator. Part of her wanted to insist on going with him. _You're being ridiculous_, she told herself. _He'll be fine. He's just going to his office._ The elevator doors slid shut and the car moved on. She hit the button for the first floor, deciding to take Maggie out the front doors rather than going to the courtyard by the cafeteria. It would be quicker. Foolish or not, she still wanted to get back to Greg as soon as possible.

Outside, she shivered in the biting wind and willed Maggie to hurry. She hadn't realized how much more sheltered the courtyard was. The second the dog finished, she scooped her up and hurried inside. She moved briskly across the empty lobby, glancing up at the second floor balcony. No one was staring down at her today. She wondered where Drs. Cuddy and Wilson were.

On the fourth floor she moved swiftly toward Diagnostics, her steps slowing a little as she neared Dr. Wilson's office. His door was closed and she breathed a sigh of relief when she passed without it opening. He was the last person she wanted to see.

Greg was sitting in a chair in front of the whiteboard. He didn't turn when she entered the conference room. There was something to the set of his shoulders that concerned her. It wasn't the defeated slump she'd seen before, but clearly something was bothering him. She set Maggie down, unhooking the leash, and the dog ran immediately to Greg, jumping on his good leg. He reached down to rub her behind her ears, looking up as Sarah approached. She searched his face for any sign of distress.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Wilson's going on sabbatical for six months. He came to tell me." Greg's matter-of-fact tone was belied by the sadness in his eyes.

"Oh," she said, unsure how to respond. She'd be glad to see the back of James Wilson, but he and Greg had once been friends. "Is that a good thing or…?" He smiled at her and she breathed a sigh of relief as he reached up to catch her hand.

"It's good." His tone was firm and some of the sadness seemed to lift. Sarah smiled back at him, feeling relieved.

"Ok," she said.

"C'mere," he murmured, tugging on her hand. She leaned down for his kiss. When she drew back a moment later, he reached up to gently trace around her mouth with his thumb.

"Sorry about that," he murmured and she realized he was still worrying about his beard scratching her face. She caught his hand.

"It's a small price to pay," she answered, squeezing gently. "Looks like your team has been busy."

"Yeah," he said gruffly. His voice was thick with emotion and he looked away from her. "Let's…let's go get that dinner."

"Alright." She let go of his hand and he grabbed his cane, getting carefully to his feet. She watched Greg on the elevator ride to the basement, but he seemed calm once more.

Sarah went in to the cafeteria, leaving Greg in the hallway with Maggie. There were not many choices for dinner. She passed on the half-wilted salads being offered and chose portions of spaghetti and breadsticks. For dessert the options were green jell-o and tapioca pudding. After a moment's mental debate, Sarah opted for the jell-o. When she returned to the hallway, Greg reached out to take the bag from her.

"Slim pickings this evening," she warned as he peered inside. "I think they're running low on supplies."

He wrinkled his nose, reminding her for an instant of a little kid. "Green jell-o? Yuck. Maybe Maggie will like it."

"You are not feeding her jell-o."

"Aw, you're no fun," he whined. Sarah shook her head at him. He even sounded like a kid.

She wasn't sure how they managed it, but they made it up to their room without dropping food, drinks, or Maggie. She got a plate of kibble ready for the dog and set it in front of her before moving to spread out their supper on one of the bed's tray tables.

"We have spaghetti and breadsticks," she announced. "I gave the salad a pass. It was half-wilted."

"And green jell-o." Greg made a face.

Sarah rolled her eyes, fighting back laughter. "No one is going to make you eat the green jell-o."

"I'll bet Nero Wolfe would refuse green jell-o too," he said.

"I think Wolfe would refuse any jell-o. He doesn't eat food from boxes," Sarah replied. It was taking all her willpower to keep a straight face, especially when Greg threw his head back and laughed. He continued to harass her about the jell-o throughout their meal, but when she reached to take away his unopened container, he stopped her.

"I don't get any dessert?" he pouted.

"I thought you didn't want it." She shook her head at him as he dug into the container eagerly.

When he'd finished eating (he wound up polishing off her jell-o as well), she got up to dispose of their empty containers. He slipped off the bed too, going to his bag and digging into it while she stuffed the trash into the wastebasket. When she turned back, he was wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and holding up the Rex Stout novel she'd brought.

"I thought I might read a little," he said, his face flushing. "You know, out loud."

Sarah smiled. "I'd like that. Just give me a minute." She retrieved Maggie's empty plate to add to the wastebasket and then scooped up the dog. She set her on the bed by Greg's legs before taking a seat beside him. His hand wavered a little and she reached out to steady the book for him. He let go of it, slipping his arm around her. He took hold of one side of the book and she held the other.

Greg's voice was hesitant at first but before long he was reading smoothly. Sarah let her head drop against his shoulder, breathing a sigh of contentment.

"No falling asleep over there," he warned.

"I won't." He chuckled and she elbowed him gently. "No reading ahead."

"You already know the story," he protested.

"That's not the point. I want to enjoy it again."

"It's a mystery. How can you enjoy it when you already know the solution? Isn't the whole point of reading one to try to figure it out before the detective?"

"I enjoy the characters," Sarah said, turning a little so she could see his face. "And I enjoy sharing the experience with you." She ducked her head, feeling her cheeks burning.

"Hey," Greg said. She looked up to see him smiling at her. "I…I like sharing this with you too," he murmured. She smiled back, releasing her hold on the book as she turned to kiss him. She felt the book drop against her back as Greg threaded his fingers into her hair.

They broke apart a few minutes later and Sarah let her head rest against his chest, breathing in his scent. His arm tightened around her and he sighed.

"I like sharing that with you too," he said. She laughed softly.

"Good," she said, lifting her head to grin at him. "Me too." She let her head drop back to his chest, snaking and arm around him. He sighed again, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and tightening his hold a little more. They stayed that way, holding on to one other, for several minutes.

"Shall we…read some more?" he asked at last.

"Alright," Sarah said, shifting carefully in his embrace. She managed to get turned without hurting him or dumping the book off onto the floor. She settled her head against his shoulder as he began to read once more. After a few minutes she realized that his voice was changing subtly for each character. She smiled in delight, ducking her head a little so he wouldn't see her. She didn't want Greg to think she was laughing at him but she was amused; she'd caught herself doing the same thing when she read out-loud.

Greg read for over an hour. His voice was growing hoarse by the time he stopped. Sarah took the book from him, setting it aside, and shifted on the bed so she could see his face.

"So," she asked. "what do you think?"

"It's more interesting than I thought it would be," he admitted.

"When we finish it, we can watch the tv show. A&E made a series a few years ago. They were very faithful adaptations."

"There's a tv version? What are we reading for?" Greg asked in mock outrage. Sarah turned, smacking him lightly, and he laughed at her. The end of the laugh turned into a yawn.

"We should get ready for bed," Sarah told him. He sighed and nodded in agreement. She slipped reluctantly from the bed and moved to get her coat. It was time to take Maggie out.

When she returned to the room, Greg had moved over onto the other bed and most of the lights were out. Sarah set Maggie on her bed and ducked into the bathroom to change. She climbed into her own bed and reached up to turn off the last light. She settled in, jumping as a hand covered hers in the darkness.

"Sorry," Greg mumbled sleepily.

"It's ok," she said, returning his grasp.

"Have to see Cuddy tomorrow, after the tests are done," he murmured drowsily. "But tomorrow evening…"

"Tomorrow evening is ours," Sarah finished, squeezing his hand. He chuckled softly, returning the squeeze. His breathing deepened and after a few minutes, his hand went slack in hers. She smiled in the darkness, letting her eyes slip shut. Her last thought before she drifted to sleep was to wonder if Greg realized that tomorrow was New Year's Eve.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Well, I had thought that this would be our last chapter, but there were too many dangling plot threads to wrap up neatly in one more chapter (and Bob wouldn't stand for not getting to visit with all of you again) so this is NOT our final chapter. Many thanks to my beta, Brighid45, for helping me get this one sorted out - it was rough going for a while there! If you aren't reading Brighid's _Treatment_ series, you are missing out. The current story, _The Language of Pain_, is wrapping up now and there's at least one more on the way. Check them out!**

The MRI machine was double-booked. House took a seat in the waiting area, watching as Foreman and Thirteen argued with the oncologist who was trying to steal House's slot. Something had changed between Foreteen since he'd last seen them and he spent a few minutes speculating about it. Thirteen had been standing just a little too close to Chase in the elevator to be casual, so he didn't think the change meant she and Eric were together again.

"Dr. House?" His reverie was disrupted by an approaching technician. "Dr. Cuddy just called. She'd like to see you in her office."

"Did you tell her I was here for a test?" House asked, getting to his feet.

"She adjusted the schedule," the technician said, his face flushing. "Your new appointment is at 1pm."

"Right." House glanced over at his team. "You might want to let them know." He made his way out of the waiting area, wondering how long it would take the technician to break in on the argument.

Cuddy was at her desk when he arrived. He knocked briefly before entering her office. She looked up as he stepped inside; he was struck by the dark shadows under her eyes. As he got closer he could see that they were red-rimmed and puffy as well.

"House," she said wearily.

"You said you wanted to see me," he replied, dropping into a chair in front of her desk.

"Yes." Cuddy sighed and pushed aside a stack of paperwork. "We need to discuss what happened yesterday."

"A lot of things happened yesterday."

"You admitted to taking Vicodin."

"Ah. That one."

She frowned. "I can't just ignore it, House."

"Right." He stared at her and Cuddy's face flushed.

"House…" She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry."

He started and stared at her. He couldn't have heard her correctly. "What?"

"Sarah… Sarah was right," Cuddy said. When he stayed silent, she shifted nervously in her chair. "She said we all enabled your addiction."

"She did?" House fidgeted in his chair, unsure how to respond to Cuddy's apology.

"She was… pretty scathing."

"If you're looking for an apology…"

"No," Cuddy said quickly, shaking her head. "No, like I said, she was right." She looked down at her hands and an awkward silence fell. After a moment, House cleared his throat.

"So…" he prompted. Cuddy looked up and shifted in her chair, sitting up a little straighter. It was a relief to see her snap back into administrator mode. She briskly outlined her plan for his continued employment. As he'd expected, he'd be randomly screened for drug use, and she wanted to know that he was continuing to see Dr. Nolan. She smiled in relief when he readily agreed.

"Is that all?" he asked and she nodded. He got to his feet and made his way to the door.

"House," Cuddy called as he reached it. He turned to see her stepping around her desk. She stopped a few feet from him, her earlier hesitation returning. "I…I'm glad you found Sarah."

"Me too," he replied. He waited a half-second and when Cuddy didn't say anything else, he left.

House made his way to Diagnostics, where he found his team gathered around the conference table. They looked up as he entered, their discussion coming to a halt.

"What?" he asked.

"We have an idea," Thirteen said hesitantly, "and we want to know what you think." She jerked her head toward the whiteboard and House scanned it, his gaze coming to a stop at one set of letters: "CRPS." He could feel himself start to glare.  
"Complex regional pain syndrome," Chase said nervously. "Type I, RSD, seems like the best fit."

"It's a crap diagnosis." House shifted his glare from the board to the members of his team.

"It's just an idea," Taub said. "We'll know more after we do the tests today…"

House cut him off. "There's no definitive test for CRPS."

"It's just one idea," Foreman said, his tone conciliatory. "If CRPS seems most likely after today, then there are other tests that can be run which will give us a clearer picture of what's going on. Thermography, sweat testing, x-rays…"

"None of which will _prove_ it's CRPS."

"We could start treatment and see if you respond," Chase said. "We could start you on meds, get you in to a physical therapist. If it helps…"

"It's a waste of time."

"House…" Thirteen let her voice trail off, shifting her gaze to the door. House looked over to see Sarah entering, carrying Maggie. The dog's tail began to wag and when Sarah sat her down, she ran straight to him. He reached down to scratch behind her ears automatically.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said, looking around the room. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just taking Maggie out and thought I'd stop by."

"It's ok," Foreman said, getting to his feet. "I think we need a break anyway."

"We can take Maggie out," Chase added. "A walk will do us all good." He exchanged glances with the others and they rose together. Foreman collected the leash from Sarah while Thirteen retrieved Maggie. House watched as the fellows gathered their coats and left.

"How's it going?" Sarah asked quietly. He snapped his gaze away from his retreating team to stare at her.

"This is stupid," he said tersely, getting to his feet. He stalked past her into his office. She followed him, stopping just inside the door to watch as he paced the confined space. She said nothing and he felt his irritation growing.

"They've got a crap theory," he growled.

"Why is it crap?" Sarah asked.

"There's no definitive test," he snapped, glaring at her.

"So, they can't prove it."

"Duh," he sneered, and Sarah flinched. He looked away, waiting for her to storm out. After a moment she spoke, her voice calm and even, and he stared at her in surprise.

"So, if they can't prove the diagnosis, what are they testing for today?"

"They're trying to eliminate other theories."

"Is there any reason not to go through with these tests?"

"No," he admitted.

"If the tests do eliminate the other theories, then what?"

"They want to start treatment for the crap diagnosis."

"Is that…dangerous?"

"No."

"Would it make things worse?"

"No." He sighed in exasperation, biting back more sarcasm. "It'd just be a waste of time."

"If it didn't work," Sarah said with a nod. "But what if they're right?"

"It's a crap diagnosis." He looked away from her again.

"Just because there's no definitive test, there's no illness?" she pressed.

"Hmph," he grunted, staring down at his feet. "I didn't say that." He kept staring at his feet and Sarah sighed.

"I can only imagine how much pain you're in, and I'm sure that my imagination is a pale imitation of what you're actually feeling," she said quietly. He looked at her sharply and she went on, meeting his gaze steadily. "I could stand here and tell you that you should do this, but I'm not the one who has to live with the pain. Only you can decide if it's worth trying." He stared at her, saying nothing, and she continued to hold his gaze. After a moment he looked away, feeling ashamed of the harsh way he'd spoken to her. Movement in the conference room caught his eye and he looked up to see his team returning.

"Minions are back," Sarah said quietly. "I'm going to get both Maggie and me out of your way. I'll be up in the room." She didn't wait for him to reply before going into the conference room. He watched as she shook her head at Chase and collected the little dog. The younger man shot a puzzled look at him. With a growl, House stalked out of his office. He could feel the team staring as he went past the office.

* * *

The team had gone together to escort House to his MRI appointment. Thirteen had breathed a sigh of relief to find him awake, dressed, and fairly cooperative. He'd insisted that he could change into a gown once they reached radiology, and no one had pushed the issue. She'd been aware of him watching her in the elevator and had taken a half-step away from Chase. When she dared to glance over at House, he'd been staring straight ahead. The half-smirk on his face, however, told her that he'd noticed. She stopped herself from shaking her head; it would only amuse him more.

They arrived in radiology's waiting area in time to see a technician wheeling another patient into the MRI chamber. A doctor she recognized from oncology was making his way toward the control room.

"Hey," Thirteen protested. "What's going on? This is our slot."

"Not anymore," the doctor replied, turning to look at her.

"We scheduled this yesterday, Liu," Foreman said. "You can't just…"

"You think House is the only one who gets to play fast and loose with the scheduling around here?" scoffed Dr. Liu.

"House didn't play with the schedule," Foreman insisted. "We set this up yesterday. If you had an emergency you could have contacted us…" The argument continued for several minutes, until a technician intervened.

"Dr. Cuddy called," he said, sounding resigned. "Dr. House has gone to see her, and his appointment has been moved to 1pm." The technician sidled away and Dr. Liu gave them a triumphant smile before turning to continue on his way to the control booth. Thirteen gave an exasperated sigh.

"Now what?"

"Let's go back to the conference room," Foreman said. "Once House is done with Cuddy, we can move on with the other tests."

"Assuming we aren't in Liu's way there," muttered Chase.

The team was silent on the way to the conference room. Once inside, Taub went straight to the coffee pot while the others moved to take seats around the table. Foreman took the spot at the end closest to the door.

"House is never going to go for CRPS," Chase said, nodding toward the board. "We might as well erase that."

"It's a good fit," Thirteen protested.

"Doesn't matter," Taub replied, dropping into the seat beside her. "House will call it a crap diagnosis."

Foreman shook his head. "It isn't a crap diagnosis. It fits. He'll see that."

"He'll get one look at it on the board and blow up," Taub replied, taking a slurp of coffee. "We should erase it."

"And if all the tests eliminate the other possibilities, then what?" Thirteen asked.

"Then we get Sarah in here before we suggest that diagnosis," Chase answered.

"We can't run to Sarah every time we have a disagreement with House," Thirteen said.

"We're not running to her. We're asking for her help," Chase replied.

"We can't expect her to do our jobs for us," Foreman said. "We're the ones who need to convince House to give this a chance."

"We should've sicced Sarah on Liu," Taub muttered.

"He'd never know what hit him," Chase said, snickering.

"Guys, be serious," Foreman chided. Thirteen could feel her own lips twitching, until she spotted House in the hallway.

"He's here," she warned, and everyone fell silent. House stepped into the room, coming to a stop just inside the door to survey the group. Thirteen forced herself not to look away.

"What?" he demanded.

"We have an idea and we want to know what you think," Thirteen said. She tilted her head at the whiteboard, watching as House read the writing. She knew when he'd found CRPS because his brows drew together in a scowl.

"Complex regional pain syndrome," Chase put in anxiously. "Type I, RSD, seems like the best fit."

"It's a crap diagnosis," House spat, shifting his glare from the board to the team.

Taub fidgeted in his chair but didn't flinch away from House's glower. "It's just an idea. We'll know more after we do the tests today…"

"There's no definitive test for CRPS," House snapped.

"It's just one idea," Foreman said. "If CRPS seems most likely after today, then there are other tests that can be run which will give us a clearer picture of what's going on. Thermography, sweat testing, x-rays…"

"None of which will _prove_ it's CRPS," House retorted, unappeased by Foreman's soothing tone.

Chase took a deep breath and entered the fray. "We could start treatment and see if you respond. We could start you on meds, get you in to a physical therapist. If it helps…"

"It's a waste of time."

"House…" Thirteen let her voice trail off as Sarah approached the conference room door. She was carrying Maggie and smiling, but her happy expression faded as she stepped inside and took in the tense room. Maggie was oblivious, her tail wagging in obvious delight at the sight of House. When Sarah put the dog down, she ran straight to him and Thirteen bit back a smile when he reached down to scratch behind her ears. She quickly shifted her gaze back to Sarah, who was speaking.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just taking Maggie out and thought I'd stop by."

"It's ok. I think we need a break anyway," Foreman said, standing up.

"We can take Maggie out. A walk will do us all good," Chase suggested. He looked to Taub and Thirteen and they all got to their feet. She went to get Maggie while the others waited by the door. They grabbed up their coats as she approached, Chase snatching hers as well, and they made their escape together.

The team was silent as they waited for the elevator. Thirteen stole a glance over her shoulder, peering down the hall toward Diagnostics. What was House telling Sarah, and how was she reacting? She was grateful when the car arrived and they could step inside.

"$50 says that House will agree to the testing when we get back up there." Chase spoke as soon as the elevator doors shut. Thirteen looked over to see him giving a challenging look to Taub and Foreman.

"I'll take that bet," Taub retorted, smirking. "Not even she's going to be able to get House to accept a crap diagnosis."

"You want in on this?" Chase asked Foreman.

"No. I'm not going to bet on House's health."

"Suit yourself," Chase replied with a shrug.

"We've left Sarah in a difficult position," Thirteen said, guilt surging through her.

"Go back if you want," Taub told her. "It won't take 4 of us to walk one little dog."

"Sarah can handle House," Chase said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "She'll be fine." Thirteen sighed and nodded, even as a voice in her head chided her for being a coward.

* * *

Greg left shortly before 8 for his first test. Sarah spent a few minutes tidying their room, consolidating their laundry into one bag and counting how many sets of clean clothing they had left. Maggie lay at the end of one of the beds, watching. Sarah stuffed the last of the laundry into the bag and looked over at the dog.

"What do we do now, Mags? I don't want to read my book – I'm saving that to share with Greg." Maggie responded by lifting her head and cocking it to one side as she listened. Sarah laughed at the sight. "You're right. We should go see Bob and Meryl."

When they reached the gerontology ward, Bob and Meryl were in the lounge. Bob had a group of men gathered around a table. He was shuffling cards but he stopped when he saw Sarah. She heard one of the men laughing at him for his "little girlfriend" and smiled. He got to his feet, frowning a little as he studied her face. Something about the way he looked at her reminded her of Greg and she could feel her smile widening.

"Your fella needs a shave," he said at last, leaning in to kiss Sarah on the cheek before reaching out a gnarled hand to rub Maggie's head.

"It's fine," Sarah answered, feeling herself blush.

"Uh-huh."

"Let it go, Bob."

"It's your face," the old man replied with a shrug.

"Yes, it is," Sarah said firmly. A smiled flashed across Bob's face for a moment and then he grunted and nodded.

"C'mon. If we don't get Queen Maggie over to Meryl soon, one of 'em is gonna burst." Sarah laughed and let him steer her toward the older woman.

Maggie's tail was wagging furiously and she was straining to reach Meryl, who was staring fixedly at the little dog. Meryl's face lit up in a smile when Sarah place Maggie in her lap. She put her arms around the dog, pulling her into a hug. Once she was released, Maggie settled into the woman's lap with a sigh. Sarah took a seat on the couch beside Bob.

It only took a few minutes for several older women to gather around them. They'd all seen Sarah and Greg kissing the day before, and Sarah felt herself blushing as they began to pepper her with question after question.

"Yes, he's a doctor… No, I'm not a nurse… Yes, he is a little older than me… No, we're not getting married… Yes, he's a good kisser…"

"Enough!" Bob growled, cutting off the questions. "Don't you have soap operas to watch or somethin'?"

"This is better than any tv show," giggled one woman.

"He has such dreamy eyes," breathed another.

"Stop it," Bob commanded.

"Are you jealous, Bob?" teased one of the women. A fit of giggles seized the group and Sarah bit back a smile.

"Don't you start," Bob warned her and that was enough. She burst into laughter and the other women followed suit. Maggie started to bark, not wanting to be left out of making noise, and a stern looking nurse strode over to them.

The nurse wanted Sarah to remove Maggie, which set off a chorus of protests from the older women. Bob sat stoically through the complaining until Meryl's lower lip began to tremble. Then he sprang to his feet, steering the nurse away from the group. Sarah watched him speaking quietly to her. Within a minute the woman was giggling. Sarah smiled, wondering just what he was saying to produce such a reaction. At last the nurse left, smiling and blushing, and Bob returned, dropping back into his seat on the couch with a grunt.

"If you all start cackling she's gonna get wise," he hissed, glaring around at the group. Sarah bit back a smile when one of the women winked at her. She braced herself for the questioning to resume, but to her delight the women started teasing Bob instead. After the fifth comment about "his nurse," Bob got to his feet with a growl.

"I'm playin' cards," he muttered, stalking off to the table. He'd only gone a few steps when the men started up with a chorus of taunts. Bob stopped, shooting a mock-glare at Sarah, and headed for the table under the window that he'd shared with Greg the day before. Sarah got up and moved to the table, retrieving Bob's double-deck of cards before joining him.

"You," he informed her as she sat down, "are nothin' but trouble. Why don't you go make some for your own fella and let me be?"

"Shut up and deal," Sarah replied, tossing the cards onto the table in front of him. With a grunt, he lifted them and slipped off the rubber-band.

An hour later, Bob was complaining loudly that she either needed to pay up or strip down. When Meryl's head dipped for the third time, Sarah got to her feet.

"I think I'd better go," she said. "Meryl's getting tired."

"Right. Like I haven't heard that excuse before." He grinned and stood as well. Once again she was reminded of Greg. He walked her over to Meryl's chair, reaching down to lift Maggie. "Your fella owes me a rematch. The two of you should stop by this evening, if you manage to come up for air."

"I'll see what we can do," she answered, fighting back laughter.

In the elevator she started to reach for the sixth floor button but stopped. On impulse, she pressed the one for the fourth floor instead. She would stop by Diagnostics and see how the tests were going.

When she reached the conference room, she could see that the fellows were gathered around the table with Greg. Maggie began to squirm in her arms and Sarah set her down just inside the door. Remy had been speaking but she let her voice trail off. Sarah looked around the room, taking in the unhappy faces of the team and the scowl that didn't fade from Greg's face even as he reached out to rub Maggie's head. The tension in the room was palpable.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," Sarah said, feeling butterflies start up in her stomach. "I was just taking Maggie out and thought I'd stop by."

Foreman got to his feet. "It's ok. I think we need a break anyway."

"We can take Maggie out," Chase put in. "A walk will do us all good." He looked to his colleagues and they got to their feet. Foreman collected the leash from her while Remy retrieved Maggie. Greg stared at the team as they left before aiming his glare at her.

"How's it going?" she asked quietly.

"This is stupid." He got to his feet, stalking past her into his office. Sarah went after him, feeling her heart start to pound. She stopped just inside the door, watching as he paced. After a moment he began to speak.

"They've got a crap theory."

"Why is it crap?" she asked hesitantly.

He stopped pacing long enough to scowl at her. "There's no definitive test."

"So, they can't prove it."

"Duh." Sarah flinched at scorn in his voice and he looked away. She blinked back tears and took several deep breaths. When she felt steadier, she spoke again.

"So, if they can't prove the diagnosis, what are they testing for today?" Greg looked up at her, seeming surprised that she was still there.

"They're trying to eliminate other theories," he said tersely.

"Is there any reason not to go through with these tests?"

"No," he admitted.

"If the tests do eliminate the other theories, then what?"

"They want to start treatment for the crap diagnosis."

Sarah hesitated. "Is that…dangerous?"

"No."

"Would it make things worse?"

Greg shook his head. "No. It'd just be a waste of time."

"If it didn't work." She took a deep breath, hoping what she was about to say wouldn't make him angrier. "But what if they're right?"

"It's a crap diagnosis." He looked away from her gaze to study his feet. She took another deep breath. _In for a penny…_ she thought.

"Just because there's no definitive test, there's no illness?"

"Hmph. I didn't say that." He didn't lift his head and Sarah sighed. _Ok. Here's the pound_.

"I can only imagine how much pain you're in, and I'm sure that my imagination is a pale imitation of what you're actually feeling," she said and Greg lifted his head to stare at her. She forced herself to hold his gaze. "I could stand here and tell you that you should do this, but I'm not the one who has to live with the pain. Only you can decide if it's worth trying." She waited, her heart thumping. Greg looked away from her. After a moment his expression changed and she turned to see his team returning to the conference room. She sighed and turned to look at him.

"Minions are back. I'm going to get both Maggie and me out of your way. I'll be up in the room," she said, sounding far calmer than she felt. She turned on her heel and left. Chase looked up as she entered, a question on his face. She shook her head at him, reaching to take Maggie from him. Movement in the hall caught her eye and she looked up to see Greg going past, moving rapidly.


	37. Chapter 37

**Author's Note: Yes, I suck. It's taken me two weeks to hammer out this chapter. Thank you for sticking with me, dear Readers. I fervently hope it will not take me so long to put together chapter 38, which will be the conclusion to this story (but not to House and Sarah's story). If you'd be so kind, I'd greatly appreciate it if you left a review on your way out!**

House stalked away from his office, ignoring the twinges in his leg. He was part way to the elevators when he stopped, realizing that he had no idea where he was going. He leaned against the wall for a moment, rubbing at his leg, before pushing himself off and starting a slow loop of the floor. He'd always thought better while walking, even if it was painful.

_What did she do that was so wrong?_ he asked himself. _She doesn't want you to give up, that's all. And what did the team do that was so wrong, other than let the __patient__ sit in on the differential?_

"_I'm_ being stupid," he muttered, shaking his head at himself. There had been a list of possible diagnoses on the board along with CRPS. The tests the team had slated might confirm or eliminate any one of them. There was no reason not to go through with the tests. _Sarah was right_.

The thought stopped him again and he sagged against the wall. He remembered the sneering, condescending tone he'd taken with her and cringed. He'd sounded so... contemptuous. _She should have slapped me and walked off_, he thought, bowing his head. He needed to go back and apologize. The thought made him shudder as his father's voice sounded in his head. _That's right – go show her what a sniveling weakling you are_, it sneered. _Typical, Gregory. Typical._

He shook his head, trying to scatter the thoughts, and remembered Sarah telling him _I'm not looking for perfection_. "No," he muttered, straightening up. "No, she won't think it's weak." He started forward again. His office came into view and he could see the team standing around in the Conference room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Sarah with them. As he got closer, he could hear the team talking but he didn't try to make out the words. He kept his eyes on Sarah and kept moving forward.

Everyone fell silent when he pushed open the door and stepped inside. He stopped a few feet in and looked at his fellows, almost laughing at the startled expressions on the faces of Taub and Chase.

"Go make sure Liu isn't stealing my spot again," he told them. When they continued to stare, he sighed. "I'm going for the tests. Now, get out of here." He jerked his head toward the door and the team started to move, filing out rapidly. He waited until they were gone before daring to look at Sarah. She was watching him; he couldn't decide if she looked relieved or confused. He took a half-step toward her and stopped, unsure how to proceed. Maggie squeaked in Sarah's arms, straining toward him.

"You'd better come pet her before she starts wiggling," Sarah said, a note of exasperation in her voice. "I don't want to drop her."

"Sorry," House muttered, stepping forward and reaching out to pet Maggie. He froze in mid-pet as he realized what he'd said. Maggie squeaked and he resumed stroking her head. "I… I'm an ass," he said, not taking his eyes off the dog.

"No you're not," Sarah replied.

"I was condescending and obnoxious…"

"You _acted_ like an ass," Sarah said. He lifted his gaze from Maggie's face to hers, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw a half-smile there.

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. An ass wouldn't have come back to apologize."

"I haven't apologized yet," he huffed, ducking his head again.

"Really? Kind of sounded like one to me."

"That… that was for making you almost drop Maggie."

"Oh. Ok."

"I was… I _acted_ like an ass, before." He took a shaky breath and plunged on. "You… I had no right to treat you that way. I'm sorry." He waited, scarcely daring to breathe. Surely she was going to tell him off. He heard a squeak and looked up to see Sarah shifting Maggie to one arm. She took a half-step toward him, putting a hand on his arm before stretching up on tip-toe to kiss him lightly.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"For… for what?" he asked, incredulous.

"For coming back and apologizing," she replied. "I know it wasn't easy for you, but it means a lot to me."

"Hmph." He looked away from her, unsure what to say.

"We get to kiss and make up now, you know." She ran her hand up and down his arm, her soft touch making his skin tingle despite his long-sleeved shirt. He looked back to her and found her smiling at him. She kept moving her hand and he felt his tension easing. He'd apologized, she'd accepted, and she didn't seem to think any less of him for it.

"Didn't we just do the making up part?" he asked.

"We did," Sarah confirmed, her smile widening. "I guess that just leaves the kissing part." She moved up on tip-toe again and he put his arm around her, pulling her close for a deeper kiss. He felt Maggie squirming between them and a second later she was lapping at the underside of his chin. He felt Sarah's lips twitch beneath his even as he fought back laughter. They broke apart, chuckling, and Sarah set Maggie down on the floor.

"Let's try that again," she murmured, stepping into his embrace. He moved his hand up to the nape of her neck, tangling his fingers in her soft hair. Her lips parted, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and he took full advantage.

"Ah-hem." The sound of a throat clearing reached him and he reluctantly broke off the kiss, keeping his arm around Sarah. Foreman stood just inside the door to the conference room, his lips curled in a half-smile. "Your MRA is slated to start in 20 minutes. We've confirmed that there are no conflicts," he said.

"Ok," House said, fighting back the urge to tell Foreman to get lost. "I'll see you in radiology in 20 minutes."

"Right." Foreman gave Sarah a nod of acknowledgement, his half-smile widening to a whole one, before turning and leaving. House caught a glimpse of the rest of the team lurking in the hallway before they moved off out of sight.

"I guess I'd better let you go," Sarah said, starting to move her hands from his shoulders.

"Not yet," he protested, drawing her close again. "I've got 20 minutes." He winced as pain shot through his leg. Sarah stopped him from moving closer.

"Come on, let's sit down," she said, steering him toward the couch in the corner. Maggie ran ahead of them, leaping onto the seat. Sarah shoved her aside so he could sit. She scooped up the dog and dropped into the seat beside him, setting Maggie to one side, then turned back toward House. He reached out to catch her right hand.

"You should get those stitches out today," he said, lightly tracing them with his thumb.

"I'm sure I can find someone around here to take care of them," Sarah replied. "Maybe I can leave Maggie upstairs with Bob and Meryl for a little while."

"I'll send Taub down. Then you won't have to worry about Maggie."

"He'll be busy with your tests," she protested.

"He'll be able to get away long enough for this," House insisted.

"Alright." Sarah sighed. "You should probably get going. You don't want to be late for your test."

"In a minute," he replied, releasing her hand so he could tip up her chin. He leaned over to kiss her softly. When he drew back, she smiled at him.

"Now you really do need to go," she said. "You don't want to keep your team waiting."

"I'll see you this evening," he said, getting carefully to his feet.

"Yes you will," she promised. "Now go already." She got up as well and shooed him toward the door. He went with a final backward glance. _This evening_. His heart beat a little faster at the thought and he smiled broadly. He didn't even notice the startled expression on the face of a passing nurse.

* * *

Thirteen felt her heart sink when House stalked past the conference room. She watched him, her mind scrambling. Surely there was some way they could persuade him to go through with the testing.

"Here," Chase said, reaching toward Sarah. "I'll take Maggie so you can go after him."

"No," Sarah replied, shaking her head. "This is his decision to make."

"But you're the only one who can persuade him," Chase protested.

"He knows what I think."

"Sarah…"

"Chase," Thirteen said, cutting him off. "Enough."

"If she doesn't convince him…"

"It isn't Sarah's job to convince House," Foreman said. "It's ours."

"And we screwed it up," Taub put in. "Now what?"

"We let him blow off some steam and we try again," Foreman replied. "CRPS isn't the only diagnosis on the board."

"I don't think we're going to get him to look past that one," Chase said, shaking his head.

"So what?" Thirteen demanded. "We just give up?"

"Of course not," Foreman said. "No one's suggesting that. Right?" He stared hard at Chase for a second before shifting his gaze to Taub.

"I'm open to suggestions," Taub said with a shrug. "But I don't see how we're going to get House to agree…" His voice trailed off and Thirteen turned to follow his gaze. House was making his way toward the conference room. He'd obviously made a loop of the floor. She watched as he pushed open the door, stopping a few feet inside it to look at them. Thirteen couldn't read his expression; was he angry or amused?

"Go make sure Liu isn't stealing my spot again," he growled. Thirteen fought back a smile. When no one moved, House sighed. "I'm going for the tests. Now, get out of here." He jerked his head toward the door. Foreman nodded once and started out, the rest of the team following him. They made their way to the elevators and up to radiology, Chase and Taub arguing the whole way.

"I _knew_ she could do it," Chase said.

"Forget it," Taub replied. "I'm not paying you."

"This is obviously Sarah's doing. She convinced him," Chase insisted.

"If she'd convinced him, he wouldn't have stalked off like that."

"You're going back on our bet?" Chase frowned at Taub. "Cadger."

"Actually, I think you're the one who's welching," Taub retorted. "The bet was that House would agree when we got back upstairs."

"And he just did."

"After stalking off."

"Oh, enough!" Foreman snapped, shaking his head at them. "Call it a wash and be done with it." He stalked ahead of the group, pushing open the door into radiology. Chase, Taub, and Thirteen came to a stop in the hall.

"What do you think?" Chase asked her.

"Oh no," she protested. "You're not dragging me into this."

"Ha!" Taub laughed. Chase started to complain but Foreman was emerging from radiology.

"We're good to go," he said. "Let's go tell House." He started back down the hall and the team fell into step behind him. Chase ended up beside Thirteen, frowning at Taub.

"Oh, get over it," she told him when they reached the elevator. "The important thing is that House _is_ letting us run the tests."

"True," Chase sighed, his frown vanishing. "Alright then. We're square?" He held his hand out and Taub.

"Cubed," he replied with a grin.

When they neared the Conference room, they could see that House and Sarah were together. Thirteen's steps slowed and she felt her face grow warm as she realized that they were kissing. The entire team came to a halt.

"I'm not going in there," Thirteen announced.

"This seems like a job for one of the more senior members of the team," Taub said, smirking at Chase and Foreman.

"You're our leader," Chase said to Foreman.

"You've been here the longest," Foreman replied.

"Alright. I know how to settle this." Chase held out a fisted hand and after a second Foreman did the same. Thirteen fought back a laugh as they proceeded to do rock, paper, scissors. "Ha! Paper covers rock," Chase announced triumphantly. With a grimace, Foreman turned toward the conference room door. House and Sarah broke apart, though they kept their arms around one another, and Foreman spoke. He emerged a minute later, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to camp out in radiology and make sure everything's ready," he said. "House knows he's got 20 minutes. If he doesn't show, you get to come and retrieve him." He pointed at Chase.

"_Me_?"

"As you said, I am our leader," Foreman replied.

"Me and my big mouth," Chase muttered, shaking his head.

Thirteen fought to keep her jaw from dropping when House arrived in radiology. Not only was he a few minutes early, but he was smiling and humming too. She forced herself to stop staring and nudged the stunned technician beside her.

"This is just too bizarre," the woman murmured, resuming her work. "House is… _cheerful_. Earlier today, Dr. Wilson practically took my head off. It's like the world's gone backwards." She shook her head and moved away, muttering to herself. Thirteen fought back laughter. She thought House would get a kick out of the woman's reaction but stopped herself from saying anything. _It's so nice to see him happy_, she thought. _Do __not__ spoil it._ She bit back a smile when House started whistling and focused on setting up the test.

* * *

Sarah had watched Greg closely when he came in to the Conference room, unsure what prompted his return. He didn't look at her, focusing on his team. Some of her anxiety faded when he growled at them to go and check on the rest of his tests. He'd waited until they were gone to speak to her. He stammered out an apology while staring at the floor, almost cringing at the end. She felt her stomach twist at the sight and quickly shifted Maggie in her arms as she moved toward Greg. She raised up on tip-toe to lightly brush his lips with hers.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Greg stared at her, clearly stunned by her response. "For… for what?" he asked.

"For coming back and apologizing. I know it wasn't easy for you, but it means a lot to me."

"Hmph." He looked away from her, his expression still puzzled.

"We get to kiss and make up now, you know," Sarah said, rubbing his arm gently. She could feel his tension easing.

"Didn't we just do the making up part?" he asked, sounding more confident than before.

"We did. I guess that just leaves the kissing part." Sarah smiled, moving in to kiss him again. He put his arm around her and pulled her in closer. She could feel Maggie squirming between them. _Of course – she wants in on the affection!_ she thought, fighting a smile. Greg's lips were twitching too and after a second they broke apart, both giving in to their laughter. Sarah shook her head and set Maggie down on the floor.

"Let's try that again." She stepped into his embrace, sliding her hands over his shoulders and up to the back of his neck as he threaded his fingers into her hair. She let her lips part and he tangled his tongue with hers, his grip tightening a little.

"Ah-hem." It took Sarah's addled mind a second to recognize the sound of a throat clearing. Greg drew back slowly, keeping his arm around her, and she turned her head to see Dr. Foreman standing just inside the conference room door. He was trying not to smile and failing.

"Your MRA is slated to start in 20 minutes," he said. "We've confirmed that there are no conflicts."

"Ok. I'll see you in radiology in 20 minutes," Greg replied curtly.

"Right." Foreman nodded at Sarah, giving in and grinning, before leaving the room quickly. She looked back to Greg, trying not to sigh.

"I guess I'd better let you go." She started to move back but his grip tightened.

"Not yet. I've got 20 minutes." He drew her in for another kiss, wincing, and she stopped him.

"Come on, let's sit down," she said. She steered him toward a couch in the corner, shoving Maggie aside when she leapt up onto the cushion. He sank down and Sarah retrieved Maggie so she could sit beside him. She set the little dog next to her, turning back to Greg. She expected to be pulled into another embrace and was surprised when he reached out to catch her right hand instead. He ran his thumb over the stitches in her palm gently.

"You should get those stitches out today."

"I'm sure I can find someone around here to take care of them. Maybe I can leave Maggie upstairs with Bob and Meryl for a little while."

"I'll send Taub down. Then you won't have to worry about Maggie."

"He'll be busy with your tests."

"He'll be able to get away long enough for this," Greg said firmly.

"Alright." Sarah said, unable to stop a sigh. "You should probably get going. You don't want to be late for your test."

"In a minute." He let go of her hand and reached for her chin, lifting it gently before leaning over to kiss her softly. She smiled at him when he drew back.

"Now you really do need to go," she told him. "You don't want to keep your team waiting." He got slowly to his feet.

"I'll see you this evening." Sarah wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question.

"Yes you will," she said, trying to make her voice as certain as possible. She stood as well, steering him toward the door. "Now go already." He smiled, glancing back at her once as he started down the hall. She let him get out of sight before gathering up Maggie and making her own way to the elevators.

She'd been in their room for half-an-hour when Dr. Taub arrived. She turned off the tv when he entered, moving quickly to stop Maggie from tripping him.

"I'll just go wash my hands and we can take care of those stitches." Taub gave Maggie's ears a rub before heading for the bathroom.

"I hope I'm not keeping you away from an important test," Sarah called after him. "House is getting x-rays to check his collar-bone and ribs." Taub spoke loudly over the sound of running water. "It doesn't take four doctors to read an x-ray." The water turned off and he emerged from the bathroom.

"Ok."

"Let's see this hand of yours," he said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Sarah held out her hand, looking away as he worked. "There – all done." He released her hand and she looked down to examine the faint scar crossing her palm. _Great_, she thought. _Now I'll always have something to remember Todd by._

"Thanks," she murmured. Taub moved to the bed, removing his gloves and stuffing them into the kit with the soiled remains of her stitches.

"The scar will fade with time, and I can get you a cream that will help too."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

"Thank _you_," he answered. "I'm not sure what you did, but House has been really easy to work with since you… talked."

Sarah shook her head. "I'm glad but I really didn't _do_ anything."

"You're good for him."

"You make me sound like broccoli or something."

"Huh?"

She put on a serious look. "Eat your vegetables – they're good for you. Date Sarah – she's good for you."

"Oh." Taub chuckled. "I guess that's not the most flattering comparison."

"Not really," Sarah said with a laugh.

"Well, I should get back to the tests. I'll get that cream to you later." He gave her a quick smile, gathered up his kit, and left. Sarah looked back at the scar crossing her palm and sighed. _I should be relieved that Todd didn't do more damage_, she told herself. _And it __will__ fade._ She shook her head. _Todd is gone, and Greg is here. _She smiled, thinking of the evening ahead.


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: We have reached the end of this story, though not the end of House and Sarah's story. I have several people to thank so bear with me if this A/N is a little long.**

**First and foremost, I want to thank my beta, Brighid45. Throughout the past 8 months she's been my brainstorming partner, my cheerleader, my editor, and my very good friend. And she's put up with a heck of a lot of whining as I struggled with various chapters. Without her help, I don't know if this story would have ever been finished. I will also say, if you have not read her award-winning _Treatment_ series, you are missing out on some truly excellent writing. The latest installment, _One Summer Night_, is under way now. Do yourself a favor and get caught up with the series; you can find them all easily amongst my favorites on my profile page.**

**I would also like to thank Laniki, DivaintheHouse, and all the other O/C Babe Forum members for inviting me in and making me feel right at home! If you haven't checked out the O/C Babe Forum yet, you are missing some great fiction as well.**

**Lastly, and certainly not least, I'd like to thank all of you for sticking with me throughout the LONG process of this story. Your alert sign-ups, favorites, and reviews have been much appreciated.  
**

House leaned against the elevator wall, studying his reflection in the metal doors. He reached up to rub his chin, pulling his hand back at the last second. _Leave it alone_, he chided himself, shaking his head ruefully. When his last test had been finished, he'd slipped up to Gerontology and asked Bob to trim his beard. The older man had led him to his room where House had settled into a chair, thinking happily about kissing Sarah without rubbing the skin off her chin while the old man went to work. House hadn't paid attention to what he was doing until Bob muttered "whoops." A look in the mirror revealed that he'd trimmed too much, leaving a path of bare skin through one cheek. House had growled and told him to finish the job. Now he was bare-chinned for the first time in years. To say it felt odd would be an understatement. He remembered Sarah's words from earlier and shook his head again. _You might look sexy without all that stuff on your face_, she'd said.

"Definitely need to make her an eye appointment," he muttered, fighting back a smile.

The elevator stopped and a nurse stepped on, her eyes going wide as she took in House. He laughed out loud, startling the woman as he remembered Bob's advice: "_Keep your head down in the lounge out there. If those biddies get a look at you all spiffed up they're liable to grab on, and they're worse than pit bulls when they get a hold of somethin'._"

Still chuckling, he ducked his head. He could feel the nurse staring and was grateful for the chance to escape when the elevator reached the fourth floor. He started for Diagnostics, wondering if his smooth face would produce similar results from the fellowship team.

As he neared the Conference Room he could see the fellows sitting around the table. They looked over as he entered and he fought back a laugh at their expressions. Foreman's eyes widened while Taub, Chase and Thirteen all stared, jaws dropping. He stood inside the door for a moment, letting them take it all in, before moving to the table.

Foreman recovered first, clearing his throat. "We were just going over your test results," he said, getting his feet and offering his chair to House. House ignored him, hooking his cane over his left arm and digging for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out several bills and tossed them toward Taub.

"You're on the dinner run," he said, hobbling toward the desk in the corner. He rummaged in the top drawer until he found the Chinese menu he wanted as well as a pad of post-it notes. He scribbled down a few numbers, affixed the post-it to the menu, and carted it back to the table.

"What… what's this?" Taub asked, holding up the bills.

"Usually at a restaurant you have to give them money in order to get them to give you food," House replied, sliding the menu toward him. "Pick out what you want. My order's on the post-it."

"You're… you're _buying_ dinner? For us too?" Taub was incredulous.

"I'll be up in my room. Don't let my food get cold," House replied, starting for the door.

"Wait," Foreman protested. "We need to go over the test results."

"Sure you do. But go get dinner first."

"You're not going to go over them with us?" Thirteen asked.

House shook his head. "Patients don't sit in on differentials." He nodded toward Chase, who was already looking over the menu, and resumed his walk toward the door, calling back over his shoulder at them. "Hurry up – I'm hungry."

When he reached their room on the sixth floor, he paused outside the door. He could see Sarah pacing inside and talking on her cell phone. Maggie was in the room's chair. Her tail began to wag when she spotted him and he hurried to get inside before she could jump down and run for the door. Sarah looked over as he came in, her lips curving in a wide smile. He hoped she'd end her call soon; he was suddenly eager to feel those lips against his smooth face. He moved to the chair, hooking his cane over his left arm and reaching out to rub Maggie's ears.

"Hey, Mom – I gotta go, ok?" she said. "Greg's here and we need to sort out our dinner. I'll call you when we get home." She waited, listening to a reply and frowning. "I don't know… hang on and I'll ask." She moved the phone to her shoulder. "She wants to tell you something. If you want I can tell her no…"

"It's ok," House said, fighting apprehension. She stepped over to him and he reached out reluctantly to take the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Greg," said Sarah's mother. Her tone was warm and pleasant, a marked contrast to the shrill anxiety he'd heard nearly two weeks ago. "I just wanted to thank you for taking Sarah and Maggie in to the hospital with you. I'm so relieved to know that they've been safe and warm all this time."

"Ok," he said, unsure how to respond.

"Don't worry – I'm not going to inflict another hat on you," the woman said with a laugh.

"That's good," he said, feeling himself relax a little.

"I know you two want to get some dinner so I'll let you go," she said. "Happy New Year."

"Thanks," he said. "Uh… Happy New Year to you too." He handed the phone back to Sarah, breathing a sigh of relief. He waited impatiently while she said her goodbyes. The moment she snapped the phone shut he moved forward, pulling her close for a long kiss.

"Hello to you too," she murmured breathlessly when they broke apart. She shifted a little in his grip, moving away from his immobile arm and resting her head against his right shoulder. He huffed in irritation and she look up at him inquiringly.

"I'm stuck in this sling for another week." She studied him for a moment before settling her head once more.

"You know," she said quietly, "anticipation can be fun too." He fought back a snort of derision, dropping a kiss on top of her head instead.

"Guess I'll have to improvise," he muttered, tightening his arm about her. She responded by gently increasing her embrace; for a few minutes they just held on to one another.

"Taub took care of your stitches?" he asked finally.

"Mm-hmm. I've got a little scar, but he says it will fade." She took a half-step back, tilting back her head to study his face. "You shaved."

"I asked for a trim, but Bob had trouble managing the clippers."

"I like it," she replied, reaching up to caress his cheek. He wanted to catch her hand but it would mean letting go of her. When she cupped his cheek, he tilted his head and brushed his lips across her wrist. She shivered a little and smiled.

"Nice improvisation," she murmured, moving up on tiptoe to place a feather-light kiss against his chin. The feel of her soft lips against his bare skin was electric. Now he was the one shivering. It turned into a wince as his leg began to protest standing. Sarah moved, turning under his arm and slipping a supportive arm about his waist. They moved together to the bed and she helped him onto it. He toed off his shoes and slung his legs up. She hopped up beside him and he slipped his arm about her shoulders, drawing her close. She tipped her head back for his kiss. They spent a few minutes "improvising" before the need to breathe forced them to stop. She settled her head against his shoulder, her hand resting lightly on his chest, while they caught their breath.

"I wish we could just stay here," she said with a sigh. "But I suppose we ought to figure out dinner."

"Dinner's on its way. I sent Taub for Chinese food." He shifted on the bed, looking at the clock on the wall. "The place is only a few blocks from here. Shouldn't be much longer." Sarah smiled, easing back against him.

"Did you get crab Rangoon?" she asked hopefully.

"Mm-hmm. Plus shrimp lo mein, pork-fried rice, and those little dumplings you like."

Sarah chuckled, her hand making slow circles across his chest. "You are a wonderful man."

"Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me again." She laughed, her touch moving from his chest to the nape of his neck.

"You just want to traumatize your whole team, don't you?" His laugh was cut off when she moved forward to kiss him. He slid his hand up to the back of her head, threading his fingers into her silken hair.

They were still twined together when Maggie let out a bark a few minutes later. House drew back reluctantly and looked over his shoulder to see Taub in the hallway, his arms full. Sarah scrambled down from the bed, moving to get the door for him.

"So sorry to interrupt," Taub said drily as he stepped inside. Maggie darted toward him and Sarah moved to scoop her up.

"Did you get everything?" House asked, reaching out to move the tray-table.

"Yes," Taub answered. "Including your change." He deposited a large bag and a drink carrier onto the tray and pulled a small wad of bills from his pocket.

House shook his head, smirking, as he took the money. "Amateurs."

"Whatever," Taub replied. "Happy New Year, House. Sarah." He reached out to rub Maggie's head for a second before leaving. Sarah set the little dog down and moved to dig into the bag. She smiled as she pulled out an empty paper plate and bowl. While she got dog food and water, House began to unload the other containers of food. Maggie began to crunch her kibble as Sarah hopped up across from him. He pulled the last container from the sack and she lifted the bag, tipping it over to spill out the packets of soy sauce, hot mustard, duck sauce, fortune cookies, and several packages of chopsticks.

"No forks?" she asked in dismay, peering into the bag. House tore open the paper wrapper on a set of chopsticks with his mouth. He spit the end of the wrapper into the bag and arched a brow at Sarah.

"You can't use chopsticks?"

"No," she answered, her shoulders slumping. "I better go find a fork." She shifted to drop off the bed and he reached out to catch her arm.

"I can teach you," he offered.

"You do remember that I'm the klutzy girl who was put in swim lessons to avoid tripping, right? Coordination is not my thing."

"You can do this. It's easy. Here." He held out the open packet to her and she took it gingerly. "After you pull them apart, rub them together so you get any loose bits off." She complied and he started tearing the wrapper into chunks.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked.

"Making something for you to practice with." He wadded up the chunks and set them out in front of her on the table. He took the chopsticks from her and demonstrated the correct way to hold them, easily lifting a wad of paper from the table before handing the sticks back to her. He reached over to adjust her grip. "Only a peasant grips that far down," he said, moving her hand further up on the pair. She shook her head, reaching for the first wad of paper. For an instant she had it trapped between the sticks, but then her grip slipped. Her top stick crossed her bottom one, forming an x, and the paper fell away. She kept trying but each time she failed to capture the piece of paper.

"This is not going to work," she said at last.

"Sure it will," House answered, tearing open his own packet. "Hunger is a great motivator." He reached out to easily snatch up a wad of paper.

"Show-off," she muttered, reaching out to try again. He reached for one of the containers of food and opened it, dipping inside for a dumpling. Sarah watched with envious eyes as he popped the dumpling into his mouth.

"Mmm," he said, smacking his lips. "Yummy." He snagged another one, holding it up for a moment. Sarah made a face at him and he laughed. A second later she leaned forward to take the dumpling from his chopsticks.

"You're right. Those are good," she said, smirking at him as she licked sauce from her fingers.

"That's cheating," he said,

"But I'm hungry," she pouted. He shook his head but when she stuck her bottom lip out, he fished up another dumpling and held it out to her.

"Only barbarians eat with their fingers," he scolded when she reached for it. She stopped and he thought she was about to resume her pouting, but then she grinned and leaned forward to snatch the dumpling from his sticks with her teeth.

"Better?" she asked once she'd chewed and swallowed.

"Hmph." He shook his head again, fighting laughter, and snagged another dumpling for her.

* * *

House had disappeared right after his last test. The team had stood around in confusion for a few minutes, until Foreman had grown impatient. He'd herded everyone to Diagnostics to go over the test results that they had.

While Foreman rearranged the white-board into two columns, one for potential diagnoses and one for test information, the rest of the team chatted about the weird day they'd been experiencing.

"House was so… pleasant," Chase said. "He hardly made any sarcastic remarks all day."

"The technician said _Wilson_ bit her head off?" Taub asked Thirteen.

"Yes." Thirteen shook her head in wonderment.

"That's not all," Chase put in. "I saw Wilson earlier. He hasn't shaved."

"Next thing you know, House will walk in here bare-faced or Cuddy will come by in a muumuu," Taub laughed. "The whole place will be topsy-turvy!"

"Guys," Foreman snapped. "Could we please focus here?" He dropped into the seat at the end of the table and opened a file.

"Sorry," Thirteen said quickly. "We're a little… distracted."

Foreman had just started to go over the results from the MRA when House arrived. He stepped into the conference room and came to a stop as everyone stared. Thirteen felt her jaw drop. He was clean-shaven. She remembered Taub's earlier remark and stopped herself from craning her neck to see if Cuddy had shown up in a flowered lounger and fuzzy pink slippers. House's lips twitched for a second and then he came forward to the table.

Foreman got to his feet, clearing his throat. "We were just going over your test results," he said, offering his chair. House didn't sit, instead hooking his cane over his left arm and reaching into his pocket. He dug out his wallet and pulled out several bills, tossing them toward Taub. Thirteen's eyes widened as she realized they were fifties.

"You're on the dinner run," House announced, moving to the desk in the corner. He rummaged inside, retrieving a pad of post-its and something else. He jotted something on the post-it, stuck it to the paper, and returned to the table, where Taub was holding up the bills.

"What… what's this?" he asked.

"Usually at a restaurant you have to give them money in order to get them to give you food." House slid the paper toward the shorter man and Thirteen saw that it was a menu for a Chinese place a few blocks away. "Pick out what you want. My order's on the post-it."

Taub looked stunned. "You're… you're _buying_ dinner? For us too?"

"I'll be up in my room. Don't let my food get cold," House replied, starting for the door.

"Wait. We need to go over the test results," Foreman said.

"Sure you do. But go get dinner first."

Thirteen finally found her voice. "You're not going to go over them with us?" she asked.

"Patients don't sit in on differentials," House said with a shake of his head. He nodded toward Chase and she glanced over to see that he was already perusing the menu. When she looked back to House, he was almost to the door. "Hurry up – I'm hungry," he tossed back over his shoulder.

Stunned silence fell. "What… what the hell was that?" Taub asked at last.

"That is as close to an apology for this morning as we're going to get from House," Chase answered. "Here's my order." He stuck a post-it of his own to the menu and slid it and a pad of notes over to Thirteen.

"Is this place even going to be open?" she asked, looking at the menu.

"If there's power, Mr. Lee will have found a way to get food," Chase replied.

"Ok." Thirteen unfolded the menu, glancing over at Foreman. He sighed and nodded.

"Alright. We won't have all the results until tomorrow anyway. Let's take the night off," he said. "We can get back at this in the morning."

"Sounds good to me." Taub took the menu from Thirteen and started to look through it. He jotted down his choices and passed it over to Foreman, who got up and went to the phone to call in the order.

"Things really are topsy turvy," Chase said, chuckling. "Not only is Wilson grouchy and unshaven, but now a chipper, smooth-faced House is buying us supper."

"All we're missing is Cuddy in that muumuu," Taub said with a snicker.

"Oh, c'mon. No one wants to see that," Chase protested. Thirteen elbowed him. "Not that I would ever check out Cuddy…"

"How could you help it?" Thirteen said with a laugh. "I just want you all to stop talking about muumuus before she really does turn up in one. I don't think I could handle that."

"Order's called in," Foreman announced. "They said it'd be twenty minutes."

"Then we'd better go," Taub answered, getting to his feet. "Who's coming with me?"

"I'll come," Foreman said, moving to retrieve his coat. The two of them left and Thirteen looked over at Chase to find him watching her.

"What?" she asked.

"It's New Year Eve," he said. "We should be at a party, drinking a little too much and making out in a corner."

She laughed. "You think so?"

"There is a couch over in the corner."

"And glass walls."

"With blinds." Chase smiled and got up, moving to close the blinds. Thirteen shook her head at him but got to her feet, moving to join him.

"Taub and Foreman won't be gone too long," she cautioned as he dropped down beside her.

"I can be quick," he replied, reaching for her. She moved into his arms, chuckling softly.

"Of course you can," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him. He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, slipping a hand into her shirt and sliding it up to cup her breast. When she drew back from the kiss, she found him grinning at her.

"No bra – handy," he said, squeezing gently before flicking his thumb across her hardening nipple and making her gasp.

"If you're going to keep that up we're going to have to find a room with a locking door," she said breathlessly.

"I know a few places," he told her, leaning in for another kiss.

They were still kissing, though Chase had removed his hand, when Foreman arrived. He cleared his throat loudly and they sprang apart. Thirteen felt her face flush.

"Food's here," Foreman said calmly, carrying a large bag and a drink carrier over to the table. Chase got up to move the files out of the way and she watched them. Neither man showed any sign of being embarrassed. _I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?_ she thought, smiling ruefully. _I guess if it's not bothering them then it shouldn't bother me either._ She took a deep breath and got to her feet, moving to join the men at the table.

"Taub took House's food up to his room," Foreman said, passing out napkins and chopsticks. "He'll be here in a few minutes." He met Thirteen's gaze and held it. "If the two of you want to go off on your own…"

"We're fine here," Thirteen said quickly, giving him a small smile and hoping her gratitude was obvious without her having to say anything. "We'll eat with you guys." She glanced at Chase and he nodded.

"Sure," he said with a shrug.

"Seriously…" Foreman began, but he was interrupted when Taub came in.

"You owe me," he announced, pointing at Foreman.

"I don't think so," Foreman replied. His lips were twitching as he struggled not to grin.

"They were all over each other," Taub said, shaking his head as he came to the table.

"Were you embarrassed?" Thirteen asked, delighted at the chance to get Taub back for his teasing the previous day.

"It was nothing compared to walking in on my parents," Taub replied, smirking at her.

"Of course not," said Chase. "The noses weren't large enough."

"Hey!" Taub protested as the others dissolved into laughter.

The teasing continued throughout the meal. Thirteen sat back in her chair when she finished eating, thinking that she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed around the rest of the team. Chase reached over to take her hand and she smiled at him. She still had her doubts about him, but right now they seemed insignificant. He squeezed her hand and leaned over to murmur in her ear.

"Let's go find that room with the locking door."

"Ok," she murmured back, nodding.

"Have a Happy New Year," Chase said, getting to his feet. Thirteen followed suit, feeling her face warm a little.

"Yeah, you too," Foreman replied. He stood as well and leaned over to kiss Thirteen's cheek. "See you next year."

"See you next year," she repeated, letting Chase tug her across the room. She gave Foreman and Taub a quick smile over her shoulder and then they were in the hallway with Chase moving fast as he pulled her toward the elevators.

In the car he pressed her up against the wall, kissing her greedily as his hands wandered over her. She could feel his arousal and hoped that the room he had in mind wasn't far from the elevators; walking had to be a bit uncomfortable for him.

They broke apart when they reached their floor and she let Chase steer her out into the hallway. She'd gone a few feet before she realized that they were on the sixth floor.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"There's an empty room down near the coma ward," he said, moving rapidly. "I thought it was the best choice. You're a bit of a screamer, you know."

"Oh shut up," she said, swatting at him lightly. They reached the room and she slid the door open, letting Chase half push her inside. The blinds were already drawn and he swiftly locked the door behind him. She backed away toward the bed, laughing as he advanced on her while tossing aside his clothing. Her own clothes were forming a trail as well; she slipped out of her pants as she reached the bed and hopped up onto it. Chase joined her and soon she was lost in the feel of skin on skin, her giggles turning to gasps. She cried out when he entered her and he chuckled.

"Told you," he said breathlessly. Then he began to move, and speaking wasn't possible anymore. She cried out again as she went over the edge and a moment later he joined her with a moan. He collapsed against her and they lay together in a breathless tangle of limbs.

"You were right," she said when she'd finally caught her breath. "You _can_ be quick."

"So can you," he retorted. "And you _are_ a screamer."

"That," she retorted, "was not screaming. You haven't heard me really scream."

"That sounds like a challenge." Chase grinned at her before leaning in to kiss her. She slipped her hands into his hair, returning his kiss eagerly.

"Happy New Year," she murmured when he drew back.

"Happy New Year," he repeated, leaning in for another kiss.

* * *

Sarah paced her room in growing impatience. When her cell-phone had rang nearly an hour ago, the red alert klaxon had told her that her mother was calling. She'd reassured her that she and Maggie were fine, explaining how Greg had brought them with him to the hospital. They'd talked about the storm and when Sarah might get to go home, and then her mother had moved on, telling her about the weather in Indiana and the latest annoying things her father had done. Sarah'd been trying unsuccessfully for the past fifteen minutes to escape, but her mother wouldn't take a hint.

When the door to the room slid open and Greg came in, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She gave him a smile of greeting, watching as he moved over to the chair to pet Maggie.

"Hey, Mom – I gotta go, ok?" she said. "Greg's here and we need to sort out our dinner. I'll call you when we get home."

"Oh good – he's back. Can I talk to him for a second?"

Sarah frowned, feeling apprehensive. "I don't know… hang on and I'll ask." She moved the phone to her shoulder, giving Greg an apologetic look. "She wants to tell you something. If you want I can tell her no…"

"It's ok," Greg said with a nod. She stepped over to him and he reached out cautiously to take the phone. "Hello?" He listened for a minute, a baffled expression on his face. "Ok." Sarah could hear her mother's voice and what she thought was a laugh. Some of the tension in Greg seemed to ease. "That's good," he said. He listened for another minute and nodded. "Thanks. Uh… Happy New Year to you too." He handed the phone back to Sarah, exhaling audibly. She took the phone from him and said her good-byes to her mother as quickly as possible.

The moment she ended the call, Greg moved forward to put his arm around her and kiss her hard.

"Hello to you too," she said when they broke apart, her heart pounding. She shifted under his arm, moving to lay her head against his right shoulder. He gave a huff of irritation and she looked up at him, arching her brows in an unspoken question.

"I'm stuck in this sling for another week," he said, sounding frustrated. She watched him for a second and then settled her head against his shoulder again.

"You know," she said quietly, "anticipation can be fun too." He made a sound half-way between a laugh and a snort, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"Guess I'll have to improvise." He tightened his hold on her and she responded, moving in even closer. They held on to each other for several minutes. Finally, Greg spoke.

"Taub took care of your stitches?"

"Mm-hmm. I've got a little scar, but he says it will fade." She shifted, moving a half-step back so she could look at his face. "You shaved."

He rolled his eyes. "I asked for a trim, but Bob had trouble managing the clippers."

"I like it," Sarah assured him. She reached up to caress his cheek, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin beneath her finger-tips. When she moved her hand back to cup his cheek, he tilted his head and brushed his lips across her wrist. The move made her shiver and he smiled.

"Nice improvisation." She remembered the way he'd danced kisses along her jaw-line the day before. _Wonder how he'd like that_, she thought, going up on tiptoe to place a feather-light kiss on his chin. He shivered in response and she was about to repeat the move when his face twisted in a grimace. She moved quickly, turning within his hold and slipping her arm about his waist. _I shouldn't have kept him standing so long_, she chided herself, helping him to the bed. He toed off his shoes before swinging up his legs, sighing in relief as he stretched out before scooting over to make room for her. He put his arm around her the moment she settled beside him and she tilted her head back for his kiss.

Lack of oxygen finally forced them to separate and Sarah settled her head against Greg's shoulder. She rested her hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her palm.

She sighed softly. "I wish we could just stay here. But I suppose we ought to figure out dinner."

"Dinner's on its way. I sent Taub for Chinese food." Greg shifted a little, checking the clock. "The place is only a few blocks from here. Shouldn't be much longer."

"Did you get crab Rangoon?" she asked, settling back against him.

"Mm-hmm," he murmured. "Plus shrimp lo mein, pork-fried rice, and those little dumplings you like."

Sarah laughed in delight. He'd remembered her favorites. "You are a wonderful man," she told him, tracing gentle circles on his chest.

"Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me again." She laughed again, sliding her hand up to the back of his neck and moving her face closer to his.

"You just want to traumatize your whole team, don't you?" He started to laugh but she moved in, cutting him off with a kiss. His lean fingers threaded into her hair, making her scalp tingle.

A few minutes later Maggie began to bark and they broke apart reluctantly. Greg turned to look toward the door and Sarah looked over his shoulder to see Dr. Taub waiting outside the door. He was holding a large bag and a drink carrier. She hopped down from the bed and hurried to let him in.

"So sorry to interrupt," he said, clearly amused. Maggie charged forward as he came in and Sarah reached down to catch her.

"Did you get everything?" Greg asked, moving the tray-table into place.

"Yes. Including your change." Taub set down the food and drinks before pulling some bills from his pocket.

"Amateurs," Greg said, smirking as he took the money.

"Whatever," Taub answered, clearly unfazed. "Happy New Year, House. Sarah." He reached out to give Maggie's head a rub and left. Sarah set the dog down, digging into the bag. She was delighted to find a paper plate and empty bowl. She got food and water for Maggie while Greg started to set out the containers of food. Sarah hopped up beside him as Maggie started to crunch her kibble. When Greg took out the last container, she lifted the sack and dumped out the sauce packets, fortune cookies, and packets of chop sticks. To her dismay, no silverware was forthcoming.

"No forks?" She peered into the bag even though she knew it was empty. Greg took one of the chopstick packets and tore it open with his teeth. He arched a brow at her.

"You can't use chopsticks?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "I better go find a fork." She moved to the bed's edge, intending to run down to the cafeteria, but Greg spoke up.

"I can teach you." His words were a bit hesitant, as if he was afraid she'd refuse.

"You do remember that I'm the klutzy girl who was put in swim lessons to avoid tripping, right? Coordination is not my thing," she said doubtfully.

"You can do this," he said, sounding more confident now. "It's easy. Here." He held out the open packet of chopsticks and she took it, feeling apprehensive. There was no way this was going to work. "After you pull them apart, rub them together so you get any loose bits off." She followed his instructions, watching curiously as he started tearing the wrapper into chunks.

"What are you doing?"

"Making something for you to practice with," he said, wadding up the chunks of paper and laying them out across the table. He took the chopsticks from her and she watched as he showed her the right way to hold them. He lifted a piece of paper, making it look easy, and handed the sticks back to her. He reached over to correct her grip, moving her hand further up on the sticks. "Only a peasant grips that far down," he said. She shook her head and reached for the first wad of paper. She pinched it between the sticks for an instant and then something went wrong. The top stick drooped, forming an x with the bottom one and the paper slipped away. She tried again and again, but each time the sticks wound up forming an x instead of gripping the paper.

"This is not going to work," she said, fighting frustration.

"Sure it will. Hunger is a great motivator." Greg tore open his own chopsticks and reached out to lift one of the balls of wrapper.

"Show-off," Sarah muttered. She tried, and failed, again. Greg opened one of the containers of food and fished out a dumpling. She watched as he ate it, making a big show of smacking his lips.

"Mmm. Yummy," he teased, snagging a second one. He held it up for a second and she made a face at him. He laughed and she moved, reaching out to snag the dumpling.

"You're right," she said. "Those are good." She smirked at him, licking sauce from her fingers.

"That's cheating."

"But I'm hungry," she protested. When he shook his head at her, she stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. He shook his head, rolling his eyes at her, and fished up another dumpling. To her surprise, he held it out to her. She reached for it and he pulled it back.

"Only barbarians eat with their fingers," he chided, a teasing glint in his eyes. Sarah dropped her hand, thinking, and then leaned forward to grab the dumpling with her teeth. "Better?" she asked once she'd swallowed the food.

"Hmph." He shook his head again, his lips twitching, and offered her another dumpling. They finished off the container together, him feeding her off his chopsticks. He popped the last of them into his mouth and Sarah put the empty container into the bag.

"So," she asked archly. "The higher up on the sticks you grip the more noble you are?"

"Something like that," Greg said, opening another container.

"So I must be royalty."

"How do you figure that?" he asked, looking at her skeptically.

"I've got someone else gripping the sticks for me," she said, struggling to keep a straight face.

"I think barbarian is a more apt description," he said drily.

"You're mean," Sarah protested.

"I'm mean?" he complained. "Woman, I've only got one arm and I still fed you half those dumplings!"

"Oh, poor baby. Is your arm all worn out?" Sarah reached out to run her hand up and down his arm. Her eyes widened as she realized that there was a wrapped fork in his lap. "Hey!"

"Fine, fine," he said, tossing the fork at her. "Use your wimpy Western utensil."

"I will," Sarah replied, diving into the container of lo mein and scooping some out onto a plate.

Twenty minutes later she slid from the bed and carried the trash to the wastebasket. Greg moved the tray table aside and when she returned, she hopped up beside him, groaning a little.

"I am stuffed," she announced.

"Don't forget this," Greg replied, handing her a fortune cookie. She shook her head, a moan mingling with her chuckle.

"Right," she said, popping open the wrapper. She cracked the cookie and pulled out her fortune. "_'Your ingenuity and imagination will get results,'_" she read.

"In bed," Greg finished. "Hmm. Sounds promising."

"We always said 'between the sheets,'" Sarah replied, shaking her head.

"It's all good."

"Ok – let's see yours," she said, reaching to pop open his wrapper. Greg snapped open his cookie, pulling out his fortune.

"Hmph," he grunted.

"C'mon, what's it say?"

"_'We must have old memories and young hopes,'_" he read. "That doesn't work very well."

"I think it works perfectly," Sarah said, shifting over to rest her head on his shoulder.

"How's that?" he demanded, slipping his arm around her. "I don't even know what that means."

"It means that while we shouldn't forget our past, we also shouldn't let it stop us from pursuing our future." She shifted a little so she could see his face. He stared at her, his expression thoughtful. After a moment he nodded.

"Ok, that works," he said, tightening his arm. Sarah smiled and moved forward to kiss him before settling her head against his shoulder once more. "Yours is still more fun."

"Well, if we follow the advice on yours, we can get to mine," she said, tracing gentle circles on his chest.

"Hmph." This time the grunt was thoughtful instead of scornful. "We'll see." He shifted a little, his arm dropping away for a second before he brought it back up, pulling her closer and dropping a kiss on top of her head. Sarah snuggled in and sighed contentedly. _Old memories and young hopes_, she thought, smiling. _That's perfect advice for us, and on New Year's Eve no less._ She let her eyes slip shut but fought sleep. _We're supposed to kiss at midnight_, she told herself. The sound of soft snoring reached her and she giggled, giving in and letting herself drift off in the warm circle of Greg's arm.


End file.
